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The Aeroplane Boys Series 




In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 

OR 

Morey Mar^^hall of the Signal Corps 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 

By ASHTON LAMAR 

I. IN THE CLOUDS FOR UNCLE SAM 

Or, Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps. 

II. THE STOLEN AEROPLANE 

Or, How Bud Wilson Made Good. 

OTHER TITLES TO FOLLOW 

These stories are the newest and most up-to-date. All 
aeroplane details are correct. Fully illustrated. Colored 
frontispiece. Cloth, 1 2mos. Price, 60c each. 


The Airship Boys Series 

By H. L SAYLOR 

THREE TITLES 

I. THE AIRSHIP BOYS 

Or, The Quest of the Aztec Treasure. 

II. THE AIRSHIP BOYS ADRIFT 

Or, Saved by an Aeroplane. 

III. THE AIRSHIP BOYS DUE NORTH 

Or, By Balloon to the Pole. 

Three thrilling stories dealing with the wonderful new science 
of aerial navigation. Every boy will be interested and in- 
structed by reading them. Illustrated. Cloth Binding. 

Price, $1.00 each. 


The above books are sold everywhere or will 
be sent postpaid on receipt of price by the 


Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicai 



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Morey Hits tite Mark. (S^rc paffc 201.) 


In The Clouds 
For Uncle Sam 

OR 

Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps 



Illustrated by S. H. Riesenberg 

Chicago 

The Reilly & Britton Co. 
Publishers 














COPYRIGHT, 1910, 

by 

THE REILLY & BRITTON CO. 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


IN THE CLOUDS.^'OR’ UNCLE SAM 


©CI.A259076 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAGE 

1 An Early Morning Gallop 1 

II Breakfast on the Gallery 12 

III Morey Meets a Fellow Fisherman 24 

IV A Secret Ambition Revealed 37 

V A Visit of Ceremony 48 

VI Morey Learns He Is a Bankrupt 69 

VII An Exciting Interview 72 

VIII A Consultation with an Attorney 84 

IX The Secret of an Old Desk 98 

X Amos Becomes a Sancho Panza 110 

XI Morey Makes Amos a Note 120 

XII The Runaways Discovered 133 

XIII Arrival at Fort Meyer 145 

XIV A Screw Loose 156 

XV Two Irons in the Fire 169 

XVI The Signal Corps in the Mountains 181 

XVII The Aeroplane as a War Machine 193 

XVIII Sergeant Marshall Outwits Major Carey. . . .202 




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Morey hits the mark Frontispiece 

Amos struggled to free himself 31 

Morey ran from the office 93 


Mr. Wright sprang forward 


159 











In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


OR 

Morey Marshall of the Signal Corps 


CHAPTER I 

AN EARLY MORNING GALLOP. 

‘‘Hey dar, come along. WhaUs detainin’ yo’ 
all?” 

Two boys, one, a gaunt, long-legged, bare- 
footed colored lad, mounted on a lean mule, and 
the other a white lad, knees in and bestriding a 
fat, puffing, sway-backed mare, came dashing 
down a country road in Virginia. 

“You black rascal!” panted the white rider, 
“what d’ you mean? Pull up!” 

‘ ‘ I cain ’t, ’ ’ shouted the boy on the mule. ‘ ‘ Ole 
Jim’s got de bit.” 

“Bit?” muttered the other rider, noticing the 
mule’s rope halter and smiling. “I reckon Amos 
wants a race.” 

Loosening his worn and dingy reins the white 


1 


2 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


boy drew himself together, took a fresh grip on 
an old fashioned riding crop and spoke to his 
mount. 

‘‘You ain’t goin’ to take the dust from a com- 
mon mule, are you, Betty?” 

As if she understood, the laboring mare, al- 
ready wet with foam, and with nostrils throb- 
bing, sprang forward. 

“Out of the way!” shouted her rider. His 
light hair lay flat on his bare head and his arms 
were close by his side. ‘ ‘ Mules o£P the road for 
the old hunter I” 

Like a flash the boy on the mare passed the 
plunging, clattering old Jim and his humped-up 
rider. But only for a moment. Proud Betty, 
once the pride of the late Colonel Aspley Mar- 
shall, the hunter that took the dust from nothing 
in western Virginia, had seen her day. Old Jim 
came on like an avalanche. 

“Cain’t stop dis beas’, Marse Morey. Oit 
outen de way, Marse Morey, we’s needin’ de 
road.” 

Hanging about the neck of the mule, Amos, 
the colored boy, opened his mouth, flashing a 
row of white teeth on Morey’s sight. The 
young rider knew that Amos was laughing at 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


3 


him. He set his square jaw and leaned forward 
over the old hunter’s neck. 

“Betty,” he whispered, patting the soft, 
silken coat of his laboring animal, “for the 
honor of the stable we used to own— itl^* 

And Betty tried— her nostrils now set, her 
head and neck forward, and the light young 
rider firm hut easy in his seat. 

“Can’t hold him, eh?” shouted Betty’s rider 
as the mule drew alongside. 

Amos was digging his hare heels into old 
Jim’s rihhed sides and lashing like mad .with 
the end of his bridle rope. 

Morey saw that he was beaten in a flat race, 
but he did not surrender. 

“Eace you to the barn,” he cried as Amos’ 
kicks and lashing forced the plow mule once 
more to the front, “and over the front gate.” 

“No sah! No sah!” trailed back from Amos. 
“Dis ain’t no fox hunt. Dis am a plain boss 
race. Not ober de gate.’*’ 

“The first one over the gate,” insisted the 
white boy, now falling well behind. 

Amos turned but he did not show his teeth. 

‘ ‘ Look hyar, Marse Morey ! What you talkin’ 
’bout? Dat ole Betty ain’t jumped no gate sence 
you all ’s pa died. Y o ’ll break y o ’ fool neck, ’ ’ 


4 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


Morey only smiled. The two animals beat the 
hard highway with their flying feet. 

''Yo' alPs on’y jokin’, Marse Morey,” 
pleaded the alarmed colored hoy, as the racing 
steeds came to the dirt road leading through 
what was left of the Marshall estate, and headed 
toward the ramshackle old gate a quarter of a 
mile away. The dust rolled behind the gallop- 
ing horse and mule. Amos turned and shouted 
again : 

‘‘Pull up dat ole plug. She cain’t jump a feed 
box. Yo’ all gwine break hofe yo’ necks.” 

The only answer was a wave of Morey’s rid- 
ing crop and a toss of the smiling hoy’s head. 

“Out of our way, hoy!” sang out Morey. 
“Over the gate—” 

“Hey, Marse Morey! Hey dar! Take yo’ ole 
race. I ’s jes’ jokin’. I ain’t racin’ no mo’,” and 
throwing himself backwards on old Jim the 
frightened Amos pulled out of the race. But 
Betty, the stiff and crippled old hunter, had her 
mettle up, and Morey made no effort to stop 
her. With a laugh and a wave of his hand at the 
alarmed colored hoy as he dashed by, the cool 
young white lad gave the proud mare her head. 

At the half-broken gate the trembling animal, 
throwing off for a moment the stiffness of years, 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


5 


came to a mincing pause, gathered her fore feet 
beneath her and rose. Up in the air went Mo- 
rey’s hands and his father’s old crop as Betty’s 
fore feet cleared the top panel. Then— crash ! 
On the uncut grass of the door yard tumbled 
horse and rider. 

tol’ yo’! I tol’ yo’!” shouted Amos as Bet- 
ty struggled clumsily to her feet. ‘‘Marse Mo- 
rey,” he added, rolling from old Jim’s back, ‘‘is 
yo’ hurted?” 

There was a dash of red on the white cheek of 
the prostrate Morey but in another moment he 
was on his feet. 

“I ain’t hurt, you rascal, but the next time 
you turn that old plow plug loose against Betty 
I’ll break your black head.’,.’ 

“Yas sah, yas sah,” snickered Amos. “She 
sho’ was gwine some!” 

“Rub Betty down and then give her a quart of 
oats.” 

“ Yo ’ mean turn her in de fiel ’ ! ” 

“Has she been fed this morning?” 

‘ ‘ Dey ain ’t no oats. We ’s out ob oats. ’ ’ 

“Tell your father to order some.” 

“I reckon he done ordah cawn an’ oats but 
dey’s slow bringin’ em. Dey’s slow all de time. 
I done been borrowin’ oats olfen Majah Carey.” 


6 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘‘Well,” exclaimed Morey proudly, don’t 
you borrow any more oats from Major Carey !” 

“Why,” exclaimed Amos, “we been gittin’ 
fodder oifen’ Majah Carey all winter— all de 
while yo’ been to school. Dey’s so slow bringin’ 
oats from town dey don’t never git hyar.” 

“Did my mother tell you to go to the Carey’s 
for horse feed?” 

“Fo’ de Ian’ sake, chile! you don’ reckon my 
ole pap gwine to bodder Miss Marshall ’bout 
oats and cawn! He jes’ tells me to go git ’em 
and I done go git ’em. ’ ’ 

A peculiar look came into the face of Amos’ 
young master. But Morey said nothing. Wav- 
ing his hand to the solemn-faced colored boy to 
care for the animals, he started across the long, 
fragrant June grass thick about the dingy plan- 
tation home. 

But trouble sat lightly on Morey Marshall. 
Before he and the shambling Amos were many 
feet apart the young Virginian paused and gave 
an old familiar soft whistle. The slow-footed 
colored boy stopped instantly, and then, as Bet- 
ty wandered at will into a new flower bed and 
the lean mule walked with ears drooped towards 
the distant horse sheds, Amos hurried to Mo- 
rey’s side. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


7 


‘‘Alnos,” said Morey, ‘‘are you busy this 
morning?’^ 

The colored boy looked at his white compan- 
ion in open amazement. 

“I said,’’ repeated Morey, “are you busy this 
morning?” 

Amos was not exactly quick-witted, but, in 
time, with great mental effort, he figured out 
that this must be a joke. 

A sparkle slowly came into his wide-set eyes 
and then his long, hollow face grew shorter as 
his cheeks rounded out. His lips parted in a 
curved slit and his white teeth shone. He 
laughed loudly. 

“I reckon I’s gwine be purty busy. Ma’m 
Ca’line done tole me to sarch de hen’s nes’. 
On’y,” and he scratched his kinky head, “on’y 
I ain’t had no time yit to git de aiggs.” 

“Well, I’ll help you with that. How many 
hens are there now?” 

“Fo’. But one’s a rooster.” 

“How many eggs do we get a day?” 

“Ebery day two— sometimes. Des’ fo’ yo’ 
ma’s breakfus’.” 

It was Morey’s turn to laugh. 

“ Pa ’s done made ’rangements to lend us six 
pullets from Majah Carey.” 


8 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘‘To borrow six hens!” 

‘ ‘ Sho \ We done borrow ’ chickens mos’ ob de 
time— fo’ de aiggs. But we don’t keep ’em. 
We always takes ’em back— mostly. ” 

“Mostly?” roared Morey. 

‘ ‘ Sborely, ’ ’ explained Amos soberly. “ We ’s 
pa’ticlar ’bout dat. But we done et one of Cap- 
tain Barber’s ole bens. She was too fat an’ 
lazy— didn’t git us one aigg.” 

“Was this all for my mother?” queried Mo- 
rey, his face clouding again. 

“Yo’ ma don’ know nothin’ ’bout de critters. 
Pa, he paid Captain Barber fo’ de ole hen we 
et.” 

“That’s right.” 

“Yas sah, yas sah. I done took him a dozen 
aiggs ma sef. Wha’ fo’ yo’ lafi&n’, boy? Da’s 
right.” 

“What I wanted to know is, have you time to 
go fishing this morning? How about that trout 
hole up at the bend of the creek?” 

Amos’ smile gleamed again like a white gash. 

“Ole Julius Caesar, de king trout? Ain’t no- 
body cotch him yit. But he’s got ’bout a million 
chilluns. Say, boy,” whispered the colored lad, 
“I done reckon Miss Marshall had her breakfus’ 
by dis’ time. An’ dem aiggs ain’t gwine to spile 


In the Clouds for Uncle 'Sam 


9 


whar dey is. I’s git yo’ oP rod and yo’ oP flies, 
an’ say, I’s go one dat ah made mase’f. Dat 
ly’s fo’ oP Julius CaBsar an’ you. Say,” he 
concluded, looking wisely into the clear blue un- 
clouded sky and wrinkling his sober brow, I 
spec’s we hes’ be gwine ’long. Pears to me like 
rain.” 

‘‘I’ll meet you in a half Lour by the tobacco 
shed,” exclaimed Morey. 

Again Amos’ brow lowered and he shook his 
head. 

“Ain’t yo’ ma toP you?” he asked. 

“Told me what?” 

‘ ‘ Dey ain’t no shed no mo ’. ’ ’ 

“No shed I” exclaimed Morey, looking quick- 
ly toward the far end of the old plantation. 
“Why, what’s become of it?” " 

“Captain Barber, he done tote it away.” 

‘ ‘ Captain Barber moved it away ? Why, what 
right has he on my mother’s place?” 

“I dunno. But he tooked it away.” 

“When?” exclaimed Morey excitedly. 

“When?” repeated Amos. “Da’s when he 
fit pa and call him ‘oP fashion nigger better 
wake up.’ ” 

Morey caught the colored boy by the shoul- 
ders. 


10 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘‘I didn’t know yonr father ever had a fight 
with our neighbor.” 

‘^Not ezackly no fight, kase Captain Barber 
he wouldn’t do nothin’ but laugh.” 

‘‘But what was it all about?” 

“Pap done call him a liar.” 

“Your pap ought to be hided. Captain Bar- 
ber is a white man. ’ ’ 

“Yas sah, yas sah. But he is a liar.” 

Morey smiled again. 

“Do you know what he lied about?” he asked. 

Amos drew himself up in indignation. 

“Didn’ he go fo’ to say he bought de’ ole fiel’ 
whar de baccy shed was? An’ ain’t dat a big 
lie? Yo’ ma owns all dis ole plantation ’case 
pap says she do. But he tooked de house. He 
ain’t buy dat Ian’, is he?” concluded the simple 
colored boy. 

Morey stood in deep thought. But at last, his 
voice quavering, he said: 

“I don’t know, Amos— I hope not.” 

Morey had returned home that morning after 
a winter in school at Richmond and a visit to his 
uncle in New York State. To him the old house 
appeared much the same, and his mother was in 
no wise changed. With her he had as yet had 
no talk over the affairs of the plantation and, 


tn the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


11 


after his morning coffee, he had hurried with 
Amos to the village two miles away on an er- 
rand. The hints that Amos had dropped uncon- 
sciously startled him, hut the sky was blue, the 
air was soft, there was the smell of mint in the 
neglected grass and he was but eighteen years 
old. 

‘‘Meet me where the bam used to be,’’ he ex- 
claimed suddenly and, turning ran toward the 
house. 


CHAPTER n 

BREAKFAST ON THE GALiLEBY. 

Aspley Place, once the center of a large estate 
and the scene of much hospitality in Colonel As- 
pley Marshall’s lifetime, was now surrounded 
by a farm of less than two hundred acres. Mor- 
timer, or Morey” as he was always called, and 
his mother, had been left dependent upon the 
estate at Colonel Marshall’s death three years 
before. At first it was not known that Colonel 
Marshall was financially involved. But his 
debts almost consumed his supposed enormous 
and valuable tobacco plantation. Out of the 
settlement Major Carey, his executor, saved for 
the widow and her son the home. But it and the 
little farm immediately about the house was 
mortgaged to Major Carey himself, who from 
year to year renewed the notes for borrowed 
money. 

On these few worn and almost exhausted 
acres a faithful retainer, an old negro, Marshall 
or ‘‘Marsh” Green, who had been Colonel Mar- 
shall’s servant from babyhood., made desperate 


12 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 13 

efforts to provide a living for his mistress. He 
and his boy Amos Green lived in the sole re- 
maining cabin of the old quarters, where, in the 
time of Colonel Marshall’s father and in the 
days when Amos Green’s grandfather was a 
boy, there had been a street of log huts beneath 
big oaks, and a hundred slaves might be counted. 
Marsh Green and his boy now lived in a cabin 
patched with store boxes, beneath a roof mended 
with flattened lard tins. 

It was now many a day since the Marshalls 
had killed their own hogs, and as for the old 
oaks. Colonel Aspley himself had sold them. In 
truth, Morey’s father was neither a successful 
farmer nor a frugal business man. He believed 
in the past, was a kind parent and husband, had 
his mint juleps regularly, lived up to his patri- 
mony and left for Morey nothing more than the 
recollection of a chivalrous and proud father, a 
mortgaged plantation, old Marsh Green and fat 
Betty, his hunter. 

But these things Morey neither knew nor un- 
derstood. Mrs. Marshall had a vague belief 
that what she called her ‘^private fortune” 
would amply care for her and for Morey’s edu- 
cation. She neither knew the amount of this nor 
her real income. In fact, this fortune, left to her 


14 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

by an uncle, was a meagre five thousand dollars, 
and the $250 it produced annually, which Cap- 
tain Barber’s bank at Lee’s Court House col- 
lected and held for her, was always overdrawn. 

It was by Captain Barber and Major Carey 
that Mrs. Marshall’s taxes were looked after, 
her insurance cared for and her notes renewed 
from year to year, and she lived on in dignity 
and pride with little understanding of how the 
money came. Nor did she even suspect how 
much was due to the ceaseless efforts of Marsh 
Green. 

‘‘Colonel Aspley’s overseer,” she always said 
in referring to the faithful Green. 

“Mrs. Marshall’s hired man,” said the new- 
comers who were turning old and historic to- 
bacco fields into fruit orchards and vegetable 
gardens. 

But Marsh could hardly be called a “hired” 
man. If he was “hired” it was without pay. 
All the money that the white-haired negro saw 
came from the vegetables he grew that “the 
place” did not need. And these were as much 
the property of old Marsh as if the plantation 
were his. Mrs. Marshall did not even think of 
the matter. Twice a year she and Marsh and 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 15 

Amos drove to Lee’s and the colored servitors 
were clothed. 

The fall before, Morey, with much ceremony, 
had been forwarded to a school for boys in Eich- 
mond, famous both for its excellent curriculum 
and its high tuition. The bills for this had been 
met by Captain Barber as long as the little ac- 
count in his bank warranted. Then came the 
inevitable. 

On a day late in the winter Captain Barber 
and Major Carey, freshly shaven and carrying 
their gold-headed canes, drove slowly up to As- 
pley Place. Mammy Ca ’line received them. In 
the musty old parlor, where Colonel Marshall’s 
picture in his red hunting coat glared down upon 
his old time friends, the nervous committee 
twirled two shiny canes. 

Mrs. Marshall was not an old woman. Her 
veneration for the past was not based on any 
love for long gold chains, earrings, or corkscrew 
ear curls. There was something a little faded 
about her appearance but it was not in her hair, 
nor in her face. Perhaps it was in the gown she 
wore, but this neither the Captain nor the Ma- 
jor saw. Mrs. Marshall’s neighborly greeting, 
her courtesy, preserved with many other graces 
from the days of the old regime, her smile of 


16 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

peace and content, disconcerted the visitors. 

“Madam,’’ began Major Carey at last, “ theah 
is a little mattah— a trifle— but, ah, a mattab 
that we feel bound. Madam, to lay befoab you.” 

“Ouab respect. Madam, foab yo’ busban’, the 
late Colonel Marshall, who was ouab friend,”— 
added Captain Barber. 

“The regard we bold fo’ bis memory and fo’ 
you and yo’ son Mortimer,”— went on the Ma- 
jor. 

What they bad come to say to Mrs. Marshall 
was that, in her circumstances, Mortimer could 
not be sent away to a fashionable school; that 
be could not hope to play the role of a gentle- 
man, that the farm was non-productive and 
should be sold, that Mortimer, now a young man, 
should set about earning a living, and that she 
and her son ought to purchase a cottage in the 
nearby village where they might live on a re- 
duced scale and dispense with the unremuner- 
ated services of old Marsh and his idle, lazy, 
hungry son. 

But no such suggestions were made. 

Mrs. Marshall listened to the explanation of 
her financial straits undisturbed. Where the 
agitated visitors expected tears and despair they 
found a paralyzing calmness. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 17 

regret to say, my dear Madam,’’ concluded 
Major Carey at last and with a dry throat, ‘‘that 
you now owe Mortimer’s school four hundred 
dollars, and the bill is so long overdue that they 
are, ah, becoming even impertinent.” 

“I really thought it had been paid,” said Mrs. 
Marshall in her low, soft tone and looking at her 
hanker. Captain Barber, in an injured way. The 
Captain only wiggled in his chair. He even dis- 
missed the idea he had had of telling Mrs. Mar- 
shall that she had already overdrawn her ac- 
count one hundred and eighty dollars. ‘ ‘ Haven ’t 
I some funds out at interest?” continued their 
hostess. 

“I think you have about—” 

Mrs. Marshall smiled and raised her still 
plump hand. 

“Please don’t bother about the details,” she 
added hastily. “You have always been so good 
as to look after my business. I will take it as a 
favor if you will realize out of my funds what- 
ever is needed to cover this obligation. I pre- 
fer to sacrifice my private fortune rather than 
encumber the family estate which, of course,” 
and she smiled comfortably, “is to be preserved 
for Mortimer.” 

The two visitors could not look at each other. 


18 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


They sat silent and aghast. The ‘‘family es- 
tate’’ had been reduced to less than two hundred 
acres of worn out and almost unsalable tobacco 
land. Even this was mortgaged and Major Ca- 
rey had been carrying the obligation for years. 
He had not even received a cent of interest since 
Colonel Marshall’s death. 

“Certainly, Madam,” stammered Captain 
Barber at last, rising. “Just as you wish. ’ ’ 

“Mrs. Marshall,” said Major Carey bowing, 
“when Master Mortimer returns from school 
will you have him do me the honor to call upon 
me?” 

“With great pleasure,” said Mortimer’s 
mother, “although the poor boy is not coming 
directly home at the close of school. He will 
first visit his uncle Douglas in Hammondsport, 
New York. And, by the way. Captain,” she 
added, turning to the flustered planter-banker, 
“I’m afraid his wardrobe may require replen- 
ishing and he will need a little pocket money. 
Will you kindly send him a hundred dollars and 
charge it to my account?” 

There was no help for it. If she had been a 
man the thrifty banker would have been ada- 
mant. To the widow of his dead friend he only 
bowed. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


19 


‘‘At once/’ he answered politely. Then he 
added : ‘ ‘ Madam, I trust you will not think me 
impertinent. But what are your plans for your 
son’s future?” 

“Colonel Marshall was a tobacco grower,” 
she answered proudly. ‘ ‘ The Aspley plantation 
has known nothing but tobacco for a hundred 
and fifty years.” 

When Major Carey’s old buggy— he did not 
own or use an automobile— had creaked down 
the weed-grown Aspley Place private road to 
the highway and the unhinged gate had been 
dragged into place. Captain Barber turned to 
his companion. 

“If Mrs. Marshall’s son hasn’t any more bus- 
iness sense than his mother the Barber Bank is 
going to have a tidy sum to charge up to profit 
and loss. We’re two old fools. What do you 
want to see the hoy about?” 

Major Carey gnr j ' d. “I’m goin’ to tell him 
what his mother v : a’t know— that she isn’t 
worth a cent at ; at he must go to work and 
care for her.’- 

This was ; Mnrch. 

On the ; T n June that Morey reached his 
home, rp : - vdth Amos, arranged to go in quest 
of ' us Caesar ’ ’ and his many ‘ ‘ chilluns, ’ ’ 


20 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

and then made his way free-hearted and devoid 
of care over the unkempt lawn toward the house, 
there was no thought in his mind of money, debts 
and little of the future. 

‘‘Aspley House’’ hardly merited such a for- 
mal title. The building itself was of wood, two 
stories high and long since denuded of paint. 
But the gallery, or porch, in front seemed part 
of some other architectural creation. The floor 
of it was flush with the yard and of brick, worn 
and with sections missing here and there. The 
columns, unencumbered with a second story 
floor, were of great round pillars of brick. They 
had once been covered with cement, but this 
coating had now fallen away and the soft red 
of the weather beaten bricks was almost covered 
with entwined swaying masses of honeysuckle. 

Beneath these blossoming vines Morey’s 
mother awaited him. 

saw it,” she exclaimed anxiously. ‘^I’ve 
seen your poor father do the same. You are not 
hurt?” 

‘‘Hurt?” shouted Morey as- his mother put 
her arm about his neck and wiped the blood from 
his face with her lace handkerchief. “I’ve for- 
gotten it. Breakfast ready?” 

In a fra^ant, shaded corner of ' Le gallery, 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


21 


where the brick pavement was reasonably in- 
tact, sat a little table. On the snow-white cloth 
rested a bowl of flowers. At two places thin, 
worn silver knives, forks and spoons glistened 
with a new polish. But the had nearly 

disappeared from them. 

‘‘Say, mater, laughed Morey, proud of his 
newly acquired Latin, “why don’t you fix this 
pavement? Some one’s going to break his neck 
on these broken bricks. ’ ’ 

“It should have been seen to before -this,” 
his mother answered. “And I really believe we 
ought to paint the house. 

“Looks like a barn,” commented Morey, at- 
tacking a plate of Mammy Ca ’line’s com bread. 
“This some of our own butter?” 

Mrs. Marshall looked up at the fat smiling 
Mammy Ca’line, beaming in her red bandanna. 

“Mammy,” asked Mrs. Marshall, “is this 
some of our own butter?” 

“Ouah own buttah!” exclaimed the grinning 
cook, maid and all-around servant. “Fo’ the 
Ians’ sake. Miss Marshall, we ain’t made no but- 
tah on dis place sense ole Marse done gone, fo’ 
yars come dis fall.” 

Mrs. Marshall sighed. 

“Why don’t you?” snapped Morey with a 


22 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

tone that reminded his mother of his dead 
father. 

‘‘Why don’t we?” langhed old Ca’line. “I 
reckon you boun’ to have cows to make buttah 
— leastways a cow. Dat ole Ma’sh Green don’ 
keep no cows no mo ” 

Morey laughed. 

“Kunnin’ on the cheaps, eh?” 

But his mother only smiled and sipped her 
coffee. 

As the hungry, happy boy helped himself to 
one of the three thin slices of bacon, old Ca’line 
leaned toward her mistress and said, in a low 
voice : 

“Miss Ma ’shall, dat’s de lastest of dat two 
poun’ of salt meat.” 

Mrs. Marshall smiled again. 

“Have the overseer go to town this morning, 
Ca’line, and lay in what supplies are needed. 
Have we any fowls on the place?” 

“Yas ’um, dey’s fowls, but dey’s only 
‘aiggers.’ Dey ain’t ‘eaters.’ ” 

As Mrs. Marshall looked up in surprise, Mo- 
rey experienced the first serious moment of his 
Ufe. 

“It’s one of Amos’ jokes, mater. I under- 
stand. I’ll tell you about it after a bit.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 23 

‘‘Ainos is really very trying at times, was 
Mrs. Marshall’s only comment. 

‘‘As for meat, Ca’line,” went on Morey gaily, 
“don’t bother. Amos and I are going for trout 
this morning. tWe’ll have a fish dinner today.” 

“Your father was very fond of trout,” ex- 
claimed Morey’s mother. “I’m so glad your ’re 
goiug. By the way, Mortimer, the first day you 
find the time Major Carey wants you to call. 
He’s very fond of you.” Then, thoughtfully, 
“Have you any engagement this evening? We 
might drive over late today.” 

“That’s a go,” exclaimed Morey, springing 
up, “unless the fishing makes me too late. Pleas- 
ure before business, you know.” 

As old Ca’line shambled down the wide hall 
she shook her head and mumbled : 

“His pappy’s own chile ! An’ dat’s what took 
de paint offen dis house.” 


CHAPTER m 

MOBEY MEETS A FELiLOW FISHEBMAN. 

Mrs. MarshalPs home fronted the west. Al- 
ways, in the distance, like a magic curtain ready 
to rise and reveal a fairyland beyond, hung the 
vapory Blue Mountains. Round about, like long 
fingers, the rough mountain heights ran down 
among the century-old plantations. Ridges, 
pine-grown and rocky, and here and there tumb- 
ling rivulets gave variety to the long, level 
reaches of tobacco land. 

A little creek, finally trickling into the north 
part of the Rappahannock river, skirted what 
had once been the east boundary of the old Mar- 
shall plantation. In days long gone, before the 
forests thinned and while the mountain sides 
were thick with laurel, ash, and oak, the creek 
plunged lustily in and out of its wide and deep 
pools and went bounding musically in many a 
rapid. But now, even as the Marshall acres had 
thinned and disappeared, the woodland stream 
had dwarfed and shrunk until it was little more 
than a reminder of its former vigor. 

Yet, by all the Marshalls it was remembered 


24 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


25 


as tlie place where Colonel Aspley had ‘ ‘whipped 
the stream for speckled beauties’’ like a gentle- 
man; it was still Aspley Creek, and Amos was 
not the only one who believed trout might still 
be taken there. It was not surprising, therefore, 
that Lieutenant Fred Purcell, of the U. S. Army, 
should on this day drive twentv miles from Lin- 
den to try his luck there. 

Why this keen-eyed young officer, and many 
other soldiers who were not officers, were seen 
so often in the little railroad town of Linden, 
few persons knew. But to this place he had 
come, when the snows in the mountains were 
disappearing in March, with a few brother offi- 
cers and a squad of privates and much strange 
baggage. Mules and wagons followed a few 
days later and then the new arrivals disap- 
peared. There were many theories. Generally 
it was agreed that it might mean an expedition 
against ‘‘moonshiners” or illicit distillers. 
More conservative gossips predicted that it was 
a party of military engineers. The local paper 
ventured that the war department was about to 
locate a weather observatory on the mountains. 
One thing only became, gradually, common 
knowledge— that the soldiers were in camp near 
Green Springs, in Squirrel Gap, ten miles back 


26 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

in the foot hills and that the officers came every 
few days to the Green Tree Inn, in Linden, to 
eat and smoke. 

Morey, rising from the breakfast table, was 
almost on Mammy Ca ’line’s heels 

‘‘Mammy,” he shouted, “where’s my old 
fishin’ clothes?” 

The fat old negress turned and then, embar- 
assed, exclaimed ; 

“Yo’ ma done say yo’ don’ want dem ol’ 
pants no mo’. She gib all yo’ ol’ garmen’s to 
Amos.” 

“Everything?” laughed Morey, looking down 
at his second best trousers. “I’m goin’ for 
trout. I can’t wade in these.” 

Old Ca’line shook her head. 

“I reckon yo’ ma gwine get yo’ new clothes. 
Yo’ old clothes is Amos meetin’ pants.” 

“Amos!” yelled Morey, rushing through the 
wide hall and out into the rear yard. ‘ ‘ Amos ! ’ ’ 
he called, hurrying toward the tumble-down 
cabin of the Greens. “ Gimme my pants I My 
fishin’ pants!” 

The sober-faced colored boy was just emerg- 
ing from the single room in which he and his 
father lived, with a bit of clothes line around 
his shoulders to which was attached an old, 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


27 


cracked, and broken creel, and carrying in bis 
band a long-preserved jointed casting rod. 

‘‘I say,” repeated Morey, balf laughing, 
‘‘Mammy Ca’line says Mother gave you my old 
fishing clothes. Produce— I want ’em.” 

The colored boy looked up, alarmed. 

“Ah— ah,” he stuttered. “Bern’s my own 
clothes. Bey’s my onliest meetin’ pants.” 

“I should say not,” roared Morey. “Mother 
didn’t know what she was doin’. Fork ’em 
over! I can’t go into the water in these,” he 
added, pointing to the trousers he had on. 
“These ain’t ready-made,^ ^ he went on proudly; 
“they ain’t boughten. I got them from a tailor 
in Eichmond.” 

Amos eyed the new trousers with interest 
and admiration. Then his lip quivered. 

“Marse Morey,” he whimpered, “yo’ ma 
done gib me dem pants las’ Chrismus’. I 
speck’s she don’t ’low I’s gwine part wid dem. 
Bey’s a present.” 

“Look here, boy, don’t make me mad,” re- 
torted Morey. “Turn over my pants or we 
don’t go fishin’.” 

Amos’ whine ended in a sob. He hesitated 
and then broke out: “Yo’ ma gib ’em to me. 
But—.” His voice dropped to a whisper. 


28 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

^‘Marse Morey,’’ he said, coining close to the 
frowning white boy, “I’s got fo’ bits I made 
pickin’ berries fo’ Miss Carey—” 

“Morey’s voice did not change but a smile 
seemed to hover about his clean-cut lips. 

“Look here, nigger,” he exclaimed suddenly, 
“do you want those pants worse than I do?” 

“WussI” whimpered Amos, “I jes’ nach- 
ally got to hab ’em. I done promised dem 
pants to Miss ’Mandy Hill.” 

“Promised my pants to a girl?” 

“Yas sah,” explained Amos soberly. 
“ ’Mandy and me’s gwine to de camp meetin’ 
Sunday to the Co’t House. I promise her long 
time ago I’s gwine wear dem pants when we 
does.” 

“Ah, I see,” laughed Morey at last, “well, 
don’t disappoint ’Mandy.” 

When the two boys left the cabin and cut 
across the old tobacco field it would have been 
hard to tell which was the raggedest, Amos with 
his patched blue overalls, almost white from 
constant washing, or Morey clad in old Marsh 
Green’s working corduroys. 

At the ruins of the old tobacco shed Amos 
paused, looked at Morey a little sheepishly and 
then, from under a few protecting boards, drew 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


29 


out an old tom seine about five feet long, at- 
tached to two thin saplings. 

Morey’s face flushed at once. 

‘‘What you doing with that seine, Amos?” he 
exclaimed severely. 

“What I doin’ wid dat?” 

“You’ve been seining trout, you black ras- 
cal.” 

“Cross my h’at, no sah. Deed I ain’t. No 
sah.” 

‘ ‘ WTiat have you been doing with it ? ” 

“Well sah, some says dey is and some says 
dey ain’t. But, ef yo ’ ain’t no salt meat, suckers 
is good eatin’.” 

“Suckers!” snorted Morey. “You all ain’t 
been seinin’ and eatin’ suckers?” 

Amos nodded his head. 

“You never eat none o’ Mammy Ca ’line’s 
sucker chowder?” 

Morey turned up his nose in disgust. 

“Can’t mostly tell no difference ’tween Ca’- 
line’s chowder and reg’lar fish,” the black boy 
went on appealingly. 

As they neared the creek Morey said : 

“Amos, if I ever catch you takin’ a trout with 
that net I’ll thrash you.” 

As Morey went on and the tall colored boy 


30 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

looked down on his slender companion, his hol- 
low, monrnfnl cheeks rounded into what was 
almost a smile and he muttered to himself : 

‘‘I reckon dat boy been livin’ high and mighty 
down to Richmond. Suckers is gittin’ ’tas’ good 
to me sence Marse Aspley gone.” 

Morey left the tobacco field and took the old 
meadow path to the big bend above —Julius 
Caesar’s domain and the best part of the creek. 
Anibs took the road to the ford, two bends below 
and about an hour’s fishing from the big pool. 
If Julius Caesar existed outside of Amos’ head 
Morey could not prove it. With what skill he 
had he fished the pool, waited ten minutes and 
went over the same water again without a 
strike. Then he advanced slowly down stream. 
In three quarters of an hour only two trout did 
he hook, neither of them a fish to be proud of. 

When he reached the ford where Amos should 
have been waiting for him there was no sign of 
the colored boy and the sun was high overhead. 
Ten minutes later, wading s>oftly down the cool 
and shady little stream and almost lost in the 
sportsman’s absorption, his fly shooting for- 
ward swiftly and silently over each eddy and 
likely log, he was suddenly aroused by a quick 
splash and a violent exclamation. 



8^5 




ft 




mCL 1 l« 1 

if^l ISr 



Amos Struggled to Free Himself, 













In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 33 

Just before him, and struggling in tbe middle 
of the stream, were two persons. Amos, who 
was one of them, almost prostrate in the shallow 
water, was struggling to free himself from the 
grip of a man about thirty-five years old. 

‘‘You black rascal,’’ exclaimed the man. 
' “What d’you mean. Seinin’, eh? Take that !” 

At the word he planted the flat of his hand on 
the black boy’s back. As Amos fell flat in the 
stream and rolled over in the water there was a 
splashing behind his assailant. The man turned 
just in time to see Morey, his ragged, baggy 
trousers wet and impeding his progress, plug- 
ging furiously forward. 

“Oh, you’re his pal, eh?” laughed the man. 
“Well, come on and get the same. I’ll teach 
you young whelps to know better. I’ll—.” 

But he neither had time to administer the 
same nor to finish his speech. The agile Amos 
with the water running from hiS' clothes and 
mouth, had recovered himself and with head 
down lunged forward. The next instant both 
boy and man were locked together and almost 
submerged in the sluggish current. 

As they rolled over and over Morey made des- 
perate etforts to stop the struggle. But he only 
complicated matters. Slipping, he fell upon the 


34 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

two combatants. Cold water, however, is a 
great cooler of angry passions. Without know- 
ing just how it happened, in a moment, the man 
and the two boys were standing in mid-stream, 
sputtering and gasping for breath. Morey still 
gripped his rod, the man was glancing deject- 
edly toward his own broken pole, now well down 
the creek and Amos was gripping a moss-cov- 
ered rock dug up from the bed of the creek. 

‘‘I suppose you know you are trespassing on 
private property?’’ began Morey, forgetting, 
in his indignation, that the creek no longer was 
a part of his mother’s plantation. 

The man, shaking himself, turned as if sur- 
prised. 

‘ ‘ This boy is my servant. Have you any ex- 
planation to make?” 

The man’s surprise increased to astonish- 
ment. After another look at Morey’s ragged 
garments he fixed his eyes upon the lad’s face. 

‘‘He was seining trout — ” began the stranger 
indignantly. 

“Da’s a lie;j’’ exclaimed Amos, 

“He was fishing for suckers,” explained 
Morey. 

“Look in his pockets,” retorted the stranger. 

Morey hesitated a paoment. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 35 

‘‘My name is Mortimer Marshall, sir, of As- 
pley Place. This boy is my mother’s servant. 
He-” 

At that moment Morey saw a suspicious 
movement of Amos ’ hand. 

‘ ‘ Amos, ’ ’ he exclaimed sternly, ‘ ‘ come here ! ’ ’ 

Slowly the black boy splashed forward, the 
rock still in his hand, but with one cautious eye 
on the stranger. 

Morey ran his hand into the colored hoy’s 
pocket and drew slowly forth a still flopping 
three-quarter pound trout. 

“Fo’ de Ian’s sake, Marse Morey, who done 
put dat fish in dar ? ’ ’ 

The man did not smile. 

“I’m really sorry, my hoy, that I struck you. 
I’m a great lover of this sport and I lost my 
head. I apologize to you. And to you,” he 
added, turning to Morey. 

Morey turned again to Amos. 

“Where did you get that trout, Amos?” 

“Cross my ha’t, Marse Morey, I reckon dat 
fish done swum in ma’ pocket. Trouts is cute 
fishes.” 

Morey picked up Amos’ seine, still tangled 
among the rocks, and grasping the rotten sticks 
to which it was attached, he broke them over 


36 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

his knee. Then he pointed to the bank and 
Amos crawled dejectedly ashore. 

‘‘My name is Purcell, Lieutenant Purcell, of 
the United States Army,’^ said the stranger. 

“I am glad to know you,’’ replied Morey 
reaching out his hand, “I am fond of fishing 
myself.” 


CHAPTER IV 


A SECRET AMBITION REVEALED. 

As Lieutenant Purcell and Morey clambered 
out on the bank the military man began laugh- 
ing heartily. 

suppose they are a pretty wide fit,^’ re- 
marked Morey holding out Marsh Green’s 
loosely hanging trousers with one hand. 

“I was laughing at my mistake in thinking 
you were a ^pot’ fisher,” explained the soldier. 
“But I’d known if I had seen your rod— it’s a 
beauty.” 

Morey handed Lieutenant Purcell his father’s 
old split bamboo, silver ferruled, and colored a 
rich brown from long use. 

“Since we caused you to lose your own rod 
I want you to take mine,” said Morey promptly. 
“It is a little heavy and old-fashioned but it has 
landed many a fine fish. It was my father ’s. ’ ’ 

“Your father is dead?” 

“Yes sir. My mother lives— Aspley Place is 
our home.” 

“Well, I want to shake hands with you, sir, 


37 


38 The Aeroplayie Boys Series 

and to say again I am heartily sorry I lost my 
head. Losing my rod serves me right. I 
couldn’t think of taking yours. It’s a beauty,” 
he added, taking the rod in his hands. 

‘ ' But I want you to, ’ ’ exclaimed Morey. ‘ ^ My 
father was a sportsman. He loved his horse, 
rod and gun. I don’t know what Amos meant. 
I reckon it’s the first time a trout was ever taken 
out of Aspley Creek in a net. I’ll feel better if 
you’ll take the rod. If you don’t,” he added, 
his eyes snapping, ‘H’ll take it and break it over 
that nigger’s back.” 

Amos, skulking within earshot— the rock still 
in his hand— hurried away among the pines. 

“I insist that the fault was all mine. But 
I’ll compromise. I am stationed near Linden, 
some miles from here, on special duty. It was 
a long drive over here and a man will be wait- 
ing for me some miles down the stream. I’d 
like to fish the creek down to my rendezvous. 
If you lend me your rod I’ll send it to you to- 
morrow.” 

‘‘At least,” said Morey, giving ready assent, 
“you will consider yourself as having at all 
times, for yourself and friends, the use of the 
creek. And when you are nearby,” he contin- 
ued, pointing among the trees toward the west. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


39 


mother will be glad to have you call at 
our home, A real fisherman will always find a 
welcome there. I Ve got better pants at home,” 
Uaghed Morey. 

The soldier shrugged his shoulders and 
laughed in turn. Then he lifted the lid of Mo- 
rey’s broken creel and saw the two small trout. 
Iji turn he exposed his own catch— seven beau- 
tiM fish, one weighing at least a pound and a 
quarter. Before Morey could stop him the lieu- 
t t had dumped his own string into the boy’s 
b> I,. 

“With my compliments to your mother, my 
boy.” 

The pricle of the Marshalls rose in the water- 
soaked, digged boy’s heart. 

^ ‘ On one condition, sir ; that you will take din- 
ner with us this evening. ’ ’ 

The man hesitated. 

“Not today, thank you. I’m deuced glad to 
meet a son of one of our old families— I’m a Vir- 
ginian myself— but, not today.” 

“You are stationed at Linden, you say?” 

‘ ‘ For a time. I may leave any day. If I do I 
hope we may meet again. Won’t you take my 
card?” 

He handed Morey a card reading: “Lieu- 


40 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

tenant Fred Purcell, U. S. Signal Corps, Fori 
Meyer, Virginia.” 

‘‘It will be a favor to me if you’U take tho 
rod,” insisted Morey. 

“The obligation is all mine,” insisted ihe 
stranger. “And, if we meet again I hope I c:* . 
find opportunity to return the favor in som. 
way. ^ ’ 

When the two finally parted company Morey 
had little reason to suspect how much that state- 
ment meant, nor how soon he was to avail h* 
self of Lieutenant Purcell’s kind offices. 

A half hour later Morey reached his horae an J 
entered the musty, quiet horse lot. ^^as 

hardly a breath of air and the sun ]-^y ee. the 
place with almost midsummer heat. A few 
chickens pecked in silence but no ( her living 
thing was in sight. Until then tb ' hoy had not 
realized how desolate and run-do v> u was the 
place where once the activities of a busy planta- 
tion centered. There were hardly signs even, 
of the farm implements that had rotted away for 
years. The yard seemed abandoned. 

With a little lump in his throat the boy hur- 
ried forward, his long, ragged trousers gather- 
ing new dust and weight as he did do. As he 
climbed the broken-down fence and got a view 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 41 

of the big, paintless, loose-boarded bouse beyond 
be almost sighed. But there at least were flow- 
ers and be could bear the bum of bees among the 
hollyhocks by the garden fence. There be could 
see Marsh, bis old bat well down on bis 
bead, bent over bis boe, as the colored man rose 
at times among the rank weeds. Beyond the 
garden patch, in the low meadow, be could see, 
too, old Betty and Jim the mule. Amos was not 
in sight. 

‘ ^ Old Marsh is getting pretty careless, ^ ’ said 
Morey to himself. ‘‘There’s a good many 
things be ought to do around here. Lazy nig- 
gers, ’ ’ be mused. 

It did not occur to Morey that be might do 
some of these things himself. Such bad not 
been the lad’s training. With another sigh 
be made bis way to Marsh Green’s cabin. 
Never before bad it looked so poor and deso- 
late. 

‘ ‘ Marsh ought to fix up bis old place, ’ ’ Morey 
muttered. Then he turned and looked at 
the big house. The wide shingles, green with 
moss, were missing in many places. The big 
chimney, with one side of the top missing, stood 
like a monument to the departed glories of other 
days. On the grey-green roof a few chimney 


42 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

bricks lay where they had fallen. But, aronnd 
the far corner where the gallery showed, the 
honeysuckle, crawling over the columns and 
roof, hung a deep green curtain of new fra- 
grance. And, through the crookedly hanging 
shutters which were the color of dead grass, he 
saw fresh white curtains. 

For the first time in his life the sight of the 
bricks on the roof annoyed Morey. With a 
sharp reprimand on his tongue he was about to 
call to the busy Marsh when a sound fell upon 
his ear. There was some one in the cabin. 
Stealing around behind the crumbling shack 
Morey cautiously approached it and peered 
through a crack. Amos, crooning to himself, 
was standing in the middle of the hard, clay floor 
with Morey’s Eichmond trousers held up before 
him in his outstretched hands. 

Amos’ eyes were set. On his solemn black 
face there was a look of longing. His tempta- 
tion was too great. Squatting on the floor the 
colored boy emptied the contents of the trou- 
sers’ pockets on the clay; seventy-five cents in 
money— dimes, nickels and a shining quarter— 
Morey’s key ring, a silver pencil ease, note-book, 
handkerchief, rubber eraser and his new pocket 
knife, the last thing he had bought in Eichmond. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


43 


Each thing the colored lad fondled, felt and 
smelled. Then he opened the knife, tested it 
and held it otf at arm^s length. Gradually he 
returned each object to its place, the knife last 
of all. He sprang to his feet, and Morey was 
just about to call out, but stopped. The black 
boy, giving way to temptation, plunged his hand 
again into a pocket of the trousers and pulled 
out the new knife. He shoved the knife into his 
own pocket and dropped the trousers where 
Morey had left them. 

Chuckling to himself, Morey, a few moments 
later, sauntered into the cabin. 

Amos,” said Morey, ‘‘did that man hurt you 
when he pushed you over ? ’ ’ 

“Push me?” said Amos. “He done hit me 
wid his fis^” 

“Did he hurt you?” persisted Morey, doffing 
Marsh’s unwieldly trousers. 

For answer Amos produced and exhibited the 
mossy boulder that he had carried from the 
creek. 

“Don’ mak no diffunce ’bout dat. But ef dat 
man ebber comes dis way,” and he shook his 
head belligerently, “yo’ don’ need ast him no 
sich quesson. He ain’t gwine to be hurted — he 
gwine toi be kilt— da’s right.” 


44 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘‘Anyway don’t stab him,” said Morey put- 
ting on his own trousers. 

“I ain’t no stabbin’ colored boy,” began 
Amos with dignity, “an’ I ain’t gwine hit no 
pusson when he ain’t lookin!” 

“Good. Never do any thing behind another 
man’s back.” 

The colored boy shifted a little uneasily but 
Morey only laughed and said no more. As the 
two boys passed out of the cabin Morey pointed 
to the distant home. 

“Amos,” he said, “why don’t you get up 
there and take those bricks down?” 

“Yo’ ma don’ tell me to take no bricks down. 
How I gwine to git ’way up dar? ’Sides, I ain’t 
got no time—.” 

“Well, I tell you—” 

“Miss Marshall, don’ tell me—.” 

“Git, boy!” snapped Morey nodding toward 
the house. 

But Amos hung back, digging his toes into the 
dust, with a defiant look on his face. Morey be- 
gan to feel in his pockets and his face assumed 
a puzzled look. 

“I reckon I must have dropped my new knife 
in the cabin,” said Morey, turning back. 

There was a swift pat-pat of bare feet and, 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


45 


as Morey glanced over his shoulder he saw Amos 
in a cloud of dust loping at the top of his speed 
toward the house. 

Morey followed the flying colored boy who in 
a few minutes was scrambling up the kitchen 
roof. Mammy Ca’line was in the kitchen iron- 
ing and singing softly to herself. Throwing 
the now stiff trout on a table Morey said : 

‘‘Here you are, Mammy, trout for supper.’’ 

“Ain’t you all gwine to Major Carey’s dis 
ehenin’?” 

Morey’s jaw fell. .He had forgotten about the 
proposed call. 

“Anyway,” he said, “we aren’t going there 
for supper.” 

“Wha’ fo’ yo’ gwine den? Yo’ ma’ she al- 
ways stay fo’ eatin’.” 

‘ ‘ Where is mother ? ’ ’ asked Morey. 

“Sh! sh!” whispered Mammy Ca’line, “yo 
ma been gettin’ her beauty sleep, chile.” 

“You cook the fish. Mammy; we’ll go after 
supper.” 

The old colored woman looked up with a 
shrewd smile. 

“Yo’ all bettah go ’long to Major Carey’s to- 
morrow, lessen yo’ git ’nother mess o’ fish. 
Major Carey ain’t gwine to turn no one way 


46 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

from de table. De Carey’s has fish when dey 
wants dem. We all has ’em when we kin get 
’em. ’ ’ 

Morey grew thoughtful. But, passing on into 
the hall he made his way lightly upstairs, that 
he might not disturb his mother, and entered his 
own little room. 

It certainly looked restful, after his days’ 
activity, and throwing himself on the big, high- 
posted bed, he prepared to rest. But Morey 
was not used to passing the daylight hours thus 
and in a few minutes he was up and busy. His 
unpacked trunk was before him and he squatted 
on the floor beside it. 

About five o’clock Mrs. Marshall, fresh and 
smiling, dressed in white and with a spray of 
honeysuckle in her dress, softly opened the door. 
On the floor, fast asleep, lay Morey. About him, 
in the direst confusion and disorder, were books, 
circulars, catalogues and newspaper clippings. 
The floor was littered with what had apparently 
been the principal contents of the boy’s trunk. 

Mrs. Marshall picked her way among them; 
automoble catalogues, price list of motors, ad- 
vertisements of balloon manufacturers, descrip- 
tions of aeroplane and dirigible balloon motors ; 
newspaper clippings relating to airships and 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


47 


their flights ; motor-boat pictures. By the un- 
conscious boy^s arm lay a paper backed volume, 
‘‘Aeroplanes; their Manufacture and Use.’^ 
Not less than fifty such items constituted the 
litter on the floor. 

Mrs. Marshall touched Morey on the forehead. 
He sprang up, rubbed his eyes and yawned. 

“Is this your school library?’’ asked his 
mother, laughing. 

“Some of it,” answered Morey soberly. “I 
borrowed the rest.” 

Mrs. Marshall looked surprised. 

“Does this interest you?” she went on, pick- 
ing up a picture of a revolving gyroscopic motor 
as if it were dynamite. 

‘ ‘ Interest me ? ’ ’ exclaimed Morey. ‘ ‘ I reckon 
it interests any one in my business.” 

“Your business?” 

“Surely. That’s what I’m goin’ to be.” 

Mrs. Marshall could only look at him, dazed 
and bewildered. 

“Haven’t had time to tell you,” smiled Mo- 
rey. “I’m an aviator. I’m going to make an 
aeroplane this summer.” 


CHAPTER V 


A VISIT OF CEREMONY. 

^^You don’t mean to tell me you don’t know 
what ‘aeroplane’ means?” almost shouted Mo- 
rey, when he saw from his mother’s look that 
she was puzzled. “Well, I’ll be— ” 

“Mortimer!” exclaimed Mrs. Marshall with 
as much sternness as she ever used. 

“Mater,” he laughed, “you certainly are be- 
hind the times. ’ ’ 

“What does it mean?” she asked placidly. 

“I suppose you never heard of ‘aviator’ 
either ? ’ ’ 

“I’ve heard of ‘aviary’. I believe that has 
something to do with birds.” 

“Right! Though I never heard of an avi- 
ary,” added Morey, partly to himself. “It is 
a bird. It’s a human bird. An ‘aviator’ is a 
man who drives an aeroplane.” 

“And this— this airy—?” 

“Mother, sit down,” answered Morey in de- 
spair, “and I’ll begin your aeronautical educa- 
tion.” 

For the next quarter of an hour Mrs. Mar- 
48 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


49 


shall dodged and parried verbal volleys of air- 
ship talk. Beginning with hot air balloons Mo- 
rey led his mother along through a history of 
aerounautics until he came to aeroplanes. And 
then, not satisfied with the bewildered conditiou 
of his patient parent, he began with the dreams 
of the enthusiast. 

‘‘In war and peace, in commerce and pleasure, 
from the Pole to the tropics, these human birds 
will darken the air on pinions swifter than the 
eagle’s wing. The snow-crested peaks of the 
Himalayas, the deepest recesses of the tropic 
wilderness, the uncharted main and the untrod- 
den ice of the hidden Poles will unroll before 
the daring aviator like the— like— the— ” 

“The pictured pleasures of the panorama,” 
continued his mother, pointing to the under- 
scored page of the “History of Aeroplanes” 
which she had been holding during Morey’s dis- 
course. 

“Yes,” said Morey, blushing, and then re- 
covering himself. “Anyway, that’s my plan of 
a career. I’m going to be an ‘aviator’. And 
I’m going to begin at the bottom. I’m going to 
start by making an aeroplane right here— out in 
the old carpenter shop.” 


50 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘‘Mortimer, I suppose I am just a little 
hind the times. Is this a desirable thing r’ 

“Beats the world.’’ 

“Have you been studying this at school?” 

“ ’Taint in the course, but everybody’s study- 
ing it.” 

“When did you interest yourself in such a pe- 
culiar subject?” 

“Oh, ages ago— long before Christmas,” an- 
swered Morey. “I’ve read all the books in the 
public library at Kichmond and all the maga- 
zines, and I’ve got all the circulars I could find. 
All I want now is a set of tools and some spruce 
lumber and some silk and an engine— I can do 
it. Needn’t fear I can’t.” 

“And these things,” suggested Mrs. Mar- 
shall, her smooth brow wrinkling just a trifle, 
“do they require any considerable outlay of 
funds?” 

“Well,” said Morey— hesitating a little now 
—“The tools won’t cost much, but I wanted to 
ask you about the engine. Of course,” and he 
put his arm affectionately about his mother’s 
shoulders, “I know it isn’t just as if father was 
with us, and I ain’t figuring on the best engine. 
I would like a revolving motor, that’s the newest 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


51 


thing, one with a gyroscopic influence, but that 
costs a good deal.’’ 

‘‘How much?” asked his mother taking the il- 
lustrated price list of engines that Morey 
handed her. 

‘ ‘ Twelve hundred dollars. ’ ’ 

His mother gasped and the circular dropped 
from her hand. 

“I thought myself that was too much,” 
quickly exclaimed Morey, puckering his lips. 
“But, mater, I’m not going to be extravagant. 
I’ve arranged for a cheap one, a second-hand 
one. It’s at Hammondsport. I saw it when I 
was visiting at Uncle’s.” 

His mother sighed, looked for a moment out 
toward the ruined and ramshackle barn and 
then, with a new smile, asked indifferently: 

“And the price of this— approximately?” 

“This one,” answered Morey, proudly, “is a 
real Curtiss six-cylinder, and it’s a regular aero- 
plane engine. It ’s cheap, because the man it was 
made for didn’t take it. Cousin Jack knows a 
boy who works in Mr. Curtiss ’ shop. I saw Mr. 
Curtiss about it myself. It was such a bargain 
that I— I— well I bought it.” 

Mrs. Marshall breathed a little heavily and 
rearranged her dress. 


52 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘^You didn’t mention the price,” she said at 
last, patting Morey’s hand. 

”Only four hundred dollars!” 

His mother laughed nervously. ”I’m afraid 
my boy is a little extravagant,” she remarked 
slowly. 

”Do you know what that engine’s worth!” 
exclaimed Morey. It’s worth $800 any day.” 

”Well, I suppose the young men of today 
must have their amusements. Your father’s 
was horses and hunting. But it did not inter- 
fere with his business as a planter. I trust you 
will not become extreme in the fancy. It must 
not be carried too far.” 

”Too far? I’m not going to do anything 
else until I get rich.” 

” Nothing else? You mean no other amuse- 
ment?” 

” That’s not amusement; it’s business. It’s 
going to he my job.” 

”You mean along with tobacco planting?” 

^ ‘ I should say not. What, me a farmer ? To- 
bacco is played out.” 

“Mortimer Marshall!” 

“You don’t think I’m going to be a planter, 
do you?” 

“Mortimer!” Mrs. Marshall was erect in her 
chair, her cheeks pale. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 53 

Why, mater, I had no idea that yon felt that 
way. You don^t mean that I’m to come hack 
here and take old Marsh Green’s place. I can’t 
grow tobacco. I don’t know how and I don’t 
want to. Young men don’t do those things 
nowadays. They get out and hustle.” 

“Mortimer, your father was a planter from 
boyhood until he died. His father was one and 
his father’s father. Aspley Place has grown 
tobacco for one hundred and fifty years. In 
Virginia it is a gentleman’s life.” 

“No, mater’” answered Morey in a low and 
kind vice. “It was. But it isn’t now. You 
love this place—so do I. But I’ve been out in 
the world, a little— you haven’t. Things have 
gone on all around us and we didn’t know it. 
I can ’t be a tobacco planter. I won ’t. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Marshall’s lips trembled but she said 
nothing. 

“I’ll go to school, mater; I’ll even go to col- 
lege if you like. But then I want to go to an 
engineering school. After that I’m going to 
make you famous. I’m going to make the perfect 
flying machine. Then we’ll move away from 
this old place—” 

“Mortimer!” quivered his mother. “From 
Aspley Place? Your father’s home? Never!” 


54 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

Then, with an effort, she became calm. Rising, 
as if both hurt and indignant, she exclaimed : 

‘‘My son, I am your mother and your guard- 
ian. I have my own plans for your future— your 
father’s plans. From now you will dismiss 
these ideas. I shall countermand your foolish 
purchase or ask your uncle to do so. This sum- 
mer you will spend with me. You will return 
to your school and then to the University. 
When, in time, you graduate and are able to 
do so you will return here and assume charge 
of the patrimony bequeathed you by your 
father. Meanwhile, Mr. Green will remain in 
charge.” 

And leaving Morey standing crestfallen 
among the jumble of books and papers, his 
mother walked sadly from the room. 

It was the first time Mortimer had ever been 
balked in his life. For six months he had 
thought and dreamed of nothing else. His 
pride was hurt, too, for to his cousin Jack, in 
Hammondsport, he had outlined carefully the 
exact details of his future plans. He had man- 
aged to secure an invitation from Jack Marshall 
to visit Hammondsport soon after his investiga- 
tion into aeroplane and airship affairs had re- 
vealed to him that in that little town Inventor 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 55 

Curtiss had his motor shop and aeroplane fac- 
tory and that other balloon manufacturers and 
experimenters had collected there in sufficient 
numbers to make it the aeronautical center of 
America. There he had seen real dirigible bal- 
loons, had met and talked with Carl Meyers, 
the oldest balloon navigator in the country, had 
witnessed flights of the Curtiss aeroplane, had 
gazed upon the renowned Professor Graham 
Bell, had lounged for days about the mysteri- 
ous and fascinating shops and factories, and, 
best of all and most unforgettable, had tasted 
the joys of gliding on the kites and planes of 
the various aeronautical experts. 

Then he recalled the mocking laugh of his 
uncle. 

He was a stubborn boy, but— he did not know 
whether he was a disobedient one. In all his 
life he had never been tested. Flushed and sick 
with disappointment he caught up his precious 
books and circulars and was banging them into 
the trunk when the door opened and Amos 
stuck his head into the room: 

^^Marse Morey, yo’ ma says yo’ all gwine ober 
to Marse Major Carey’s soon as yo’ has yo’ 
supper. An’ yo’s to put on yo’ bestest doe’s 
an’ slick up.” 


56 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

Bang! went ‘‘Aeroplanes, their Manufacture 
and Use. ^ ’ It missed the colored boy ’s head and 
crashed against the door jamb. 

“Here, you black rascal, shouted Morey, red 
in the face and full of anger, “come back here 
and give me my knife, you thief I ' ^ 

But the accusation was lost. Amos was on the 
long stair rail shooting to the bottom like a sack 
of wheat. 

When the old-fashioned supper bell clanged 
out in the hall below, Morey, white of face, 
marched downstairs and into the dining room in 
silence. At the humble board with Morey ^s 
trout, almost the only dish, on the snowy white 
cloth before her, sat his mother, also pale, but 
with her usual smile. A look of surprise swept 
over her face as she noticed that Morey had 
ignored her orders. 

“The evening is very agreeable,” said his 
mother softly. “It will be light for some time. 
Major Carey has asked you to come and see 
him. We are going immediately after supper. 
I have ordered out the carriage.” 

“WonT tomorrow do?” said Morey sharply 
—and then he was sorry. 

“If you prefer,” answered his mother. 
“Your trout are delicious.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 57 

‘‘Oh, I’ll go tonight,” said Morey, ashamed 
of his anger. 

“The Careys are onr oldest friends,” went 
on his mother, smiling again. “I had hoped you 
would look your best. When Major Carey does 
me the honor to appear in our home he comes 
clothed as a gentleman. He carries his gold- 
headed cane. His linen is immaculate. ’ ’ 

“It won’t take me but a minute,” said Morey, 
crowding back a tear of mortification but dis- 
posing of a couple of crisp trout nevertheless. 
“I’ll be ready as soon as you are.” 

He was about to dash from the room when 
he turned, hastened to his mother’s side and 
kissed her on the cheek. 

“That’s a good boy, Mortimer. I’m glad you 
realize that I know best.” 

While Morey was making his hasty toilet he 
heard a creaking sound outside. Bushing to the 
window he was about to break out into laughter. 
Then he stopped and a little flush came into his 
face. Slowly advancing along the road from the 
stable lot was his mother’s carriage. It was the 
old surrey that his father had once used in trans- 
porting the hounds to the distant meets. Paint- 
less, its bottom gaping, its top cracked and split 
and its wheels wobbling, it groaned forward 


58 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


toward the mounting block at the end of the gal- 
lery. To it was hitched fat Betty, sleek and 
shiny with rubbing. The harness used only on 
such occasions, still withstood the final ravages 
of time, for on one bridle blinder shone one 
glittering polished silver M— old Marsh’s pride 
and joy. 

What had amused Morey was the sight of the 
old servitor, ‘‘Colonel Marshall’s overseer,” 
Marsh Green. His shoes were shining, and a 
fresh white shirt showed resplendent beneath 
his worn coat, but the old man ’s chief glory was 
his battered silk hat. By his side rode Amos, 
splendid in his shoes and Morey’s trousers— 
his “meetin’ pants.” 

What had brought the flush to Morey’s face 
was the sudden thought: “the Careys do not 
come to Aspley Place in such a turnout. ’ ’ And, 
for the first time in his life, Morey felt ashamed 
of the old home and its surroundings. 


CHAPTER VI 


MOREY LEARNS HE IS A BANKRUPT. 

Major Carey mansion in the village of Lee’s 
Court House connected that old-fashioned, 
white-housed settlement with the plantations 
lying about the town. It was of red brick, 
square and solemn, with a slate mansard roof. 
In front, four gigantic white wooden columns 
stood like towers. Unlike the Aspley house, 
these columns— very cold in a coat of new paint 
—carried an upper gallery or balcony extend- 
ing the width of the house. And at the left end 
of the lower gallery a slender circular stairway, 
concealed behind a trellis of green slats and 
partly covered with ivy, led to the upper bal- 
cony. Immense oak trees afforded shade in 
what had once been an extensive dooryard. 

But the village, which was not wholly asleep, 
encroaching on the place, had eaten off sections 
of the old yard on each side. What the Carey 
home had been at one time, while tobacco grow- 
ing had been profitable and before Major Carey 
had begun to devote himself to hanking and 


59 


60 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

money lending in town, might be seen from the 
little windows on the roof. From this elevated 
point an observer might see that the oak trees in 
the yard had once extended in two long rows 
half a mile from the front gallery, marking the 
old plantation drive. New streets had cut 
across these and only the tops of the mighty oaks 
could be made out stretching through the grow- 
ing town. 

It was almost dusk when Amos Green, stiff 
in his heavy shoes, sprang from the surrey and 
admitted Mrs. Marshall and her son through the 
gate into the Carey grounds. Major Carey, his 
wife, and Mrs. Bradner, their married daughter, 
whose husband was the cashier in Captain Bar- 
ber’s bank, were sitting on an iron settee along 
the driveway, near the house. 

The arrival of Mrs. Marshall was almost sen- 
sational. The Careys marched alongside the 
‘^carriage” to the horse block and Major Carey 
like a cavalier assisted his guests to light. Mrs. 
Carey kissed her girlhood friend, and Major 
Cary saluted her with a profound bow, but for 
Mrs. Bradner there was but a light grasp of the 
hand. The former Miss Carey had married a 
man whom no one knew, a bank clerk from the 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 61 

West with no other recommendation than his 
sobriety and industry. 

To Morey the call was wearisome in the ex- 
treme. He reported on his school experiences, 
carefully omitting his aeronautical studies, and 
his mother exchanged with Mrs. Carey old- 
fashioned, stilted gossip concerning their homes 
and servants. Mrs. Bradner, in a beautifully 
made tailor gown, sat quietly by. When Morey 
saw how cheap his mother’s dress appeared in 
comparison with Mrs. Bradner ’s, the thoughts 
that had troubled him all day came back again. 

Then there were refreshments and the for- 
mality relaxed somewhat. 

‘‘Major Carey,” said Mrs. Marshall suddenly, 
“I really wish you would talk to Morey. I’m 
afraid the boy has got some queer ideas in Eich- 
mond. However,” and she smiled kindly 
toward the somewhat embarrassed Morey, “per- 
haps it is unnecessary now. He has promised 
me to forget them.” 

Major Carey smiled graciously. 

“Well, boys will be boys, I’m afraid,” he be- 
gan. “But just what form of— well sir, what 
are you up to now?” he asked, turning to Mo- 
rey. 

The boy’s embarrassment increased. 


62 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


Mother thinks I’m a farmer,” he said with 
an attempt at a smile. ‘ ‘ I can ’t agree with her. ’ ’ 

^ ‘ But, ’ ’ interrupted Mrs. Marshall graciously, 
^‘perhaps we ought not bother our friends with 
these family details. Especially since Morey 
now sees that he was wrong. He has agreed 
with me to finish the full course at his present 
school, to take a university training and then 
become one of us again.” 

“To take charge of Aspley plantation?” 
asked Mrs. Carey. 

Mrs. Marshall nodded her head with a satis- 
fied smile. 

“And what had you planned?” exclaimed 
Major Carey, who did not seem to join in Mrs. 
Carey’s and Mrs. Marshall’s satisfaction. 

“I was willing to finish my schooling,” an- 
swered Morey soberly, “and I’ll even spend 
four years in the university if my mother likes, 
but I want a technical training. I want to 
understand airships. I meant,” and he looked 
at his mother covertly, “to become an aviator 
if I couldn’t become an inventor.” 

“You mean this new-fangled aeroplane busi- 
ness?” asked Major Carey. 

“I’m very enthusiastic over it,” went on Mo- 
rey, 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 63 

‘‘Do you know, Major, the boy actually wants 
to build an aeroplane at our home this summer. 
And just when I know he needs rest and recrea- 
tion.^’ 

Major Carey had risen and was nervously 
toying with his heavy gold watch chain. Before 
he could speak, Mrs. Marshall added: 

“He has even purchased a— some machinery 
of some kind— to go in it.” 

Major Carey’s hand dropped from his cane. 

“But he has given up the idea, you say?” 

Mrs. Marshall waved her hand toward her 
son who sat nervously twisting his hat. 

“I’ll give it up if I have to,” said Morey, 
further abashed, “but I don’t know what I’ll 
do with my motor engine. I’ve ordered that 
and I reckon it’s on the way.” 

“These engSnes are rather exlpensive, aret 
they not?” continued the Major quizzically. 

“Oh, that depends,” answered Morey, “a new 
one is. This is a cheap one, second-hand. It 
cost only four hundred dollars.” 

“You haven’t paid for it, have you?” 

Morey looked up, shook his head and fell to 
twirling his hat again. 

“I’m going to suggest that he countermand 
the order,” said Mrs. Marshall. “It really 


64 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


seems to me a piece of extravagance. What do 
you think, Major 

Major Carey’s jaw had dropped and he was 
looking at Mrs. Marshall and Morey as if in 
deep thought. Kecovering himself suddenly he 
made an effort to smile and then said : 

‘ ^ Perhaps, ’ ’ he muttered. “ Yes, I agree with 
you.” 

‘‘There, now,” exclaimed Mrs. Marshall in 
gay humor. “You see Major Carey quite agrees 
with me. If you could only persuade him. 
Major, that he should follow in his father’s 
steps—” 

The banker-planter coughed and resorted to 
his watch chain again. 

“Perhaps Morey and I had better have a little 
talk alone,” he answered at last. 

“If you would be so good. Business always 
hurts my head,” laughed Morey’s mother. The 
old Virginian bowed again and slipped his arm 
in Morey’s. Down the long brick walk they 
strolled until the last iron settee was reached. 
Major Carey, perspiring, had hardly seated him- 
self when he exclaimed: 

‘ ‘ Morey, how old are you ? ’ ’ 

“Eighteen, sir, last month.” 

His companion nodded his head. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 65* 

“My son, your father was my best friend. 
Your mother has as fine and sweet a nature as 
any woman in Kappahannock County. But she 
has no more business sense than your old 
Betty. 

Morey started in indignant surprise. 

“And, in many ways, you resemble your 
mother. ’ ’ 

“What do you mean, Major Carey? What 
have we done?’^ 

“What did you mean by ordering a four hun- 
dred dollar steam engine?’’ 

“It isn’t a steam engine; its a Curtiss gaso- 
line.” 

The elder waved his hand in impatience. 

“Who is going to pay for it?” 

Morey’s surprise turned to indignation. 

“Perhaps that is our atfair. Major Carey.” 

“Your affair!” snorted the old man breaking 
out at last. “Morey, it’s time for you to know 
the truth. It’s bad enough for your mother to 
fool herself. That’s her nature. But you are 
almost a man. Neither you nor your mother has 
the money to pay for this extravagance.” 

“I thought” — began the boy. 

“You have not thought right. I am your 
mother ’s friend. Four months ago I determined 


66 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


to tell her she was worse than penniless. She is 
involved in debt. Aspley place is mortgaged — ’ ’ 

‘‘You mean we are poorT’ asked Morey, in a 
quavering voice. “I don’t mean that— I know 
we are poor. But that we owe people money we 
can’t pay?” 

“I tell you the truth,” went on Major Carey, 
‘ ‘ only because you ’ve got to get some sense into 
your head. Your mother is heavily involved. 
Your place is carrying a heavy debt. Your pur- 
chase of an engine is worse than foolish— it is 
shocking. ’ ’ 

The proud boy’s head fell on his breast. 

“It won’t make matters easier for you to go 
on this way. I can’t make it easy for you. You 
make it hard yourself by not suspecting. ’ ’ 

“I’ll send word not to ship it,” said Morey, 
not even yet realizimg the whole truth. 

“Don’t you understand, Morey?” Major Ca- 
rey exclaimed. “That isn’t the trouble. It’s 
every thing. You can’t go to school, you can’t 
take years to educate yourself. You’ve got to 
go to work— now.” 

The white-faced boy rose to his feet. 

“Oh, that’s it, is it? Well I’m not scared. 
That’s what I am ready to do.” 

“And you’ll have to give up your home.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


67 


^‘Give up our home? Why?’^ 

^‘The people who hold your father’s notes 
and the mortgage are ready to foreclose and 
take the place.” 

'‘Give up Aspley Place?” repeated Morey, 
the tears coming into his eyes. 

His father’s old friend nodded his head 
slowly and tremulously wiped his face. 

"Major Carey,” said Morey with a throb in 
his throat, "that would break Mother’s heart. 
She can’t do that.” 

"The sooner you realize that it must be, the 
better for both of you.” 

"Was there any way to prevent this?” 

The old Major sighed. 

"It isn’t your mother’s fault, Morey. And 
it isn’t yours. It all began a long time ago.” 

"You mean—?” 

"Your father was not a good business man. 
He was a gentleman and my friend—” 

"We don’t have to discuss him, do we, Major 
Carey?” exclaimed the hoy with a new-born 
glint in his eye. The flush of confusion and the 
tremor of alarm seemed to have gone from Mo- 
rey. 

Major Carey was startled by the sudden 
change. 


68 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

‘‘What do you think we should doT’ went on 
the lad and he was beginning to feel like a young 
man. 

“Your mother has a little money of her own 
that will keep her from want. I and others of 
her friends believe she should give up the plan- 
tation and rent a cottage in the village. You 
must go to work and help support her. ’ ’ 

“Major Carey,” said Morey in a low voice, 
“of course you know what you are saying. But 
I can hardly believe it.” 

“Morey, your mother is bankrupt.” 

The boy bowed his head for a few moments. 

“How did this happen?” he exclaimed sud- 
denly. 

“It is a long story— perhaps you are not old 
enough to understand.” 

“I^m old enough to have to understand.” 

‘ ‘ It was your father. He mortgaged the plan- 
tation. After he died your mother could not 
even pay the interest on the borrowed money.” 

“To whom do we owe this money?” 

Major Carey moved a little uneasily. 

“To the Barber Bank, principally.” 

“To any one else?” 

Again the old Virginian squirmed. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


69 


‘‘Your mother has given me notes for unpaid 
interest.” 

‘‘To you and Captain Barber?” repeated Mo- 
rey, sitting up and looking at the man beside 
him. 

“Yes.” 

“And you and Captain Barber will own our 
home?” 

“It would naturally be that way.” 

“How much do we owe you?” asked the boy 
suddenly and leaning forward in the evening 
gloom. 

Major Carey coughed and arose nervously. 

“More than you can repay, my lad. More 
than I like to say. ’ ’ 

“But I’m going to pay it,” said Morey in a 
desperate voice, laying his hand on the Major’s 
arm to detain him. “I don’t know how, but 
I ^m going to do it. You think I ’m a fool. I have 
been. If I hadn’t been soaked full of ideas that 
I got from every one around me I’d have known. 
And don’t you believe I got ’em all from my 
mother. I got ’em from everything and every- 
body around here. But I understand now. I 
might have understood long ago if I hadn’t been 
living the life every one lives around here.” 


70 


The Aeroplane Bo^s Series 


‘‘Careful my boy. Eemember, it is to your 
friends that you owe much. ’ ’ 

“And I thank them,” retorted Morey angrily. 
“To those who have loaned us money 1^11 repay 
every cent. How much do we owe you ? ’ ’ 

“What I have told you is for your own good,” 
was Major Carey ^s only reply. The old Vir- 
ginian’s indignation was rising. 

“Major Carey,” almost sobbed the boy, 
‘ ‘ don ’t take offense. But why didn ’t you tell me 
this long ago?” 

“I tried to tell your mother, but it wasn’t 
possible. I’m sorry she has to know.” 

For a moment the man and the boy stood in 
silence. Then Morey extended his hand and 
made a brave effort to smile. 

“We won’t tell her— not just yet— Major 
Carey. Because a kid has been a fool is no sign 
that he is going to keep it up. I’m game. I’m 
going to be a man, and I’m going to have busi- 
ness sense. I’m going to ‘get there’ and I’m 
not scared. To-morrow morning at ten o’clock 
I’m coming to the bank and I want to know the 
whole story.” 

Major Carey shook his head. 

“I’m afraid it’s too late.” 

“Too late to know what struck you?” laughed 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


71 


Morey. “Perhaps I’ve got more brains than 
you think.” 

“At ten o’clock in the morning, then,” sighed 
Major Carey. 

‘ ‘ That ’s the first business engagement I ever 
had,” replied Morey, “and I rather like it. I’ll 
be there.” 


CHAPTER VII 

AN EXCITING INTERVIEW. 

Old Marsh. Green was perhaps the poorest 
farmer in Rappahannock County. But when it 
came to facts in relation to the Marshall family 
or the land it had owned, his information was 
profuse and exact. When Morey knocked on his 
cabin door at six o’clock the next morning and 
ordered the white-haired darkey to turn out and 
saddle Betty and Jim, Marsh and Amos were 
more than amazed. They were confounded. No 
Marshall had ever risen at such an hour within 
the colored man’s recollection. 

^^Somepin gwine come frum dis,” muttered 
Marsh. ‘ ^ Tain ’t natchal. ’ ’ 

Amos was greatly relieved to find that the 
early morning business did not relate to the 
knife he had purloined. 

Marsh knew no more after Morey had accom- 
plished his purpose. In an hour and a half the 
boy and the “overseer” had ridden from one 
end of the plantation to the other and across it; 
not only the present one hundred and sixty-acre 


72 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 73 

piece immediately about the ^‘mansion,” but 
east and west, north and south, over all the acres 
once attached to the place. On a bit of paper 
Morey made a rough chart of the land as his 
father had known and cultivated it and on each, 
parcel and division he set down notes con- 
cerning the quality of the soil, when last culti- 
vated by the Marshalls, and its present physical 
condition. 

At nine o’clock he breakfasted with his 
mother and at ten o’clock he was at the Barber 
Bank in Lee’s Court House, above which Major 
Carey had an office. 

believe, Morey,” began Major Carey, 
‘‘after giving this problem a great deal of 
thought, that the best thing to do, possibly, 
would be to let my son-in-law, Mr. Bradner, take 
charge of the matter.” 

“A stranger,” exclaimed Morey. 

“Well, you see,” explained Major Carey, “he 
knows the situation and he can talk to your 
mother. I confess that I can’t, and you are 
rather young to undertake it. It’s a business 
proposition now and he’s a business man.” 

“We won’t talk to my mother at all. At least 
not yet. And, when we do, 1 ’ll do it. There ’s no 


74 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

call to ring in an outsider. I^m ready for busi- 
ness. N ow what does this all mean ? ’ ’ 

Major Carey sighed and pointed to a chair 
on one side of a dusty, paper-littered table. 

^‘It means, began the planter money-lender, 
‘‘that your mother owes $14,092 with an addi- 
tional $800 soon due.^’ 

Morey, instead of sitting down, sprang to his 
feet. 

“Why— why, we have never had all that 
money. ’ ’ 

“That’s it. It began when your father was 
alive. Eleven thousand of it he had. The rest 
of it is interest and—” 

‘ ‘ But my mother has money of her own. She 
had a fortune that is her’s.” 

“So she believes,” explained Major Carey, 
“but, Morey, money is an unknown quantity to 
your dear mother. She had and still has $5,000. 
It is safely invested and brings a revenue of 
$300 a year. On that and with what little your 
place has produced in the last three years you 
have lived.” 

“My schooling cost more than that.” 

“There you have it. Captain Barber ad- 
vanced the money for your school bills.” 

Morey’s face whitened and his lip quivered. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 75 

Then he leaned across the able, his hand shaking, 
and exclaimed: 

‘‘And that’s what you call looking out for our 
interests ! How could you let me make such a 
fool of myself? Do you imagine I hadn’t the 
manhood to do the right thing?” 

“I’d have told you, but, my boy, your mother 
is different. She couldn’t stand it.” 

“Yet you are willing now, when we are in 
over our heads and about ready to drown, to let 
a stranger tell her.” 

“What can we do?” 

“You can treat me like a man. Go on,” said 
Morey stoutly. “Tell me what has happened. 
If we are ‘all in’ I want to know just how deep 
the water is. Don’t you be afraid. You’re not 
talking to Mother now.” 

Major Carey seemed almost to be saying to 
himself, “I wish I were.” His restlessness in- 
creased. 

“There are three mortgages on Aspley 
Place,” he began, drawing a green box from his 
old-fashioned desk. “The first one was made 
to the Richmond Trust Co. and is on the big 
one hundred and eighty-acre piece now in corn. 
This is for $4,500. On the two sixty-acre pieces 
to the north, the meadow and the tobacco 


76 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


ground, there is a mortgage of $,3000 for money 
advanced by Captain Barber. Just before your 
father died I loaned him $3,750 on the one hun- 
dred and sixty-acre home piece and the forty 
acres of low land on the east next the creek. 

Morey’s lips were tightly set. Each new 
item came like a stab; but he had his pencil 
out. 

That’s $11,250,” he commented. 

These notes all draw seven per cent,” ex- 
plained the planter, rising and laying off his 
coat, for the morning was warm and he was 
perspiring. ‘‘That is $787.50 a year interest. 
Your mother has not been in a position to meet 
these payments. I have advanced this amount 
annually for three years.” 

‘‘I must certainly thank you for that—” 

“And took her notes, which, of course, are 
morally protected by the mortgage I hold on the 
home, and—” 

“That’s $2,262.50 more,” added Morey with 
a start. 

“Then,” added Major Carey, “your mother’s 
account at the bank is overdrawn $580, four 
hundred of it for your Eichmond bills.” 

The boy set down the items, added them, saw 
that they corresponded to the other’s total and 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


77 


turned, without speaking, to gaze out of the win- 
dow into the street below. 

‘‘And I reckon you all want your money, he 
said in a low voice at last. 

“We are not pushing matters,” explained 
Major Carey, “but we have all agreed that you 
ought to know the real facts.” 

“Amd this Richmond Trust Co. note,” broke 
in Morey suddenly. ‘ ‘ I suppose the note is due. 
Perhaps they won’t renew it. I don’t know 
much about these things, but they could push us, 
couldn’t they? They might foreclose on the 
land and take it, mightn’t they?” 

Major Carey coughed. “That note has 
passed into the hands of other parties.” 

“Whose? Do you know?” 

“Captain Barber’s bank.” 

“Oh,” exclaimed Morey, “our bank? Yours 
and Captain Barber’s?” 

“Yes. But, of course, it is one of the bank’s 
assets now and the directors are anxious to 
get their money.” 

“Why? Isn’t the interest enough? The se- 
curity is certainly ample.” 

“That’s the trouble, Morey. The security 
is not the best. Farm lands hereabouts have 


78 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


fallen so in value that we are calling in all loans 
of that sort.^’ 

‘^That ground is worth $100 an acre, any 
way,’’ exclaimed Morey, glancing at the chart 
he had made and the estimate he had secured 
from Marsh Green. 

‘‘Perhaps $25, but I doubt if that could be 
realized at a forced sale.” 

Morey’s face fell. 

“Isn’t any of it worth more than that! 

“I’m afraid not.” 

“Then the whole plantation isn’t worth more 
than $15,000.” 

The Major nodded his head. 

“I reckon we are up against it,” exclaimed 
Morey with a grim smile. “And I had figured 
it out to be worth $60,000 any way.” 

“Some of the old place isn’t worth $10 an 
acre,” replied the planter. “The house you 
can not count as worth anything.” 

‘ ‘ Except to us, ’ ’ broke in Morey stoutly. ‘ ‘ To 
us it’s worth just enough to make us want to 
keep it.” 

“There will be another $800 due as interest 
this fall,” the elder man explained with a long 
face and puckered lips, “and I don’t see how 
I can advance any more money to care for it.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


79 


Morey, who had been desperately trying to 
see some ray of light in the chaos of financial 
gloom, had a sudden idea. 

‘‘This land is really ours, still, isn't it? That 
is, so long as the mortgages are not fore- 
closed?" 

“Certainly," answered Major Carey, a little 
nervously. 

“How comes it then that Captain Barber 
carted away our tobacco shed?" 

‘ ‘ Did he do that ? ' ' began Major Carey. ‘ ‘ Yes, 
I believe he did. Well, it was in ruins. I think 
he got your mother's consent. Then there were 
the taxes," he continued, as if the thought had 
just come to him. ‘ ‘ He had advanced the money 
for taxes on the tobacco land." 

“And the one hundred and eighty-acre com 
piece?" persisted Morey. “Marsh Green says 
he was ordered off it— that Captain Barber 
said it belonged to the bank." 

“No," explained the Major, “not exactly 
that. But old Green couldn't farm it. He tried 
it the year after your father died and the weeds 
took his crop." 

“Who did farm it?" asked the boy, the Mar- 
shall jaw setting itself in spite of his despair. 


80 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


**We tried to look after it for your mother— 
the bank.’’ 

^‘And the bank had two years’ corn crop on 
it?” 

‘‘Yes, that is, it rented it out. But crops were 
poor both years. And the ground is run down. 
There wasn’t much in it. We had to buy fertili- 
zer and pay taxes and—” 

“Was there anything in it?” 

Morey looked across the table at his father’s 
old friend. 

“Maybe— a little.” 

“You have everything figured out in cents 
that we owe you. Shouldn’t there have been 
another column to show what you and the bank 
owes us?” 

“Do I understand, sir,” exclaimed Major 
Carey indignantly, “that you are making 
charges? You don’t reckon we have taken ad- 
vantage of your mother? Young man, if it 
hadn’t been for our bank you’d be working at 
day labor—” 

“And I expect to,” came the quick answer. 
“That’s neither here nor there. You needn’t 
send Mr. Bradner to talk to my mother— you 
needn’t say anything yourself. I’ll attend to 
this, I never earned a dollar in my life but I 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 81 

can add and subtract. You Ve been mighty good 
to us, Major Carey, and I’m not going to pay 
you with thanks. How long will you give me to 
take up the obligations?” 

‘‘How long? What d’you mean?” exclaimed 
Major Carey. 

“You don’t reckon I’m going to let the Bar- 
ber Bank scoop up six hundred acres of good 
Virginia dirt for $14,000 do you?” said Morey 
significantly. “I don’t think my father’s old 
friend would be willing to see us permit that.” 

Major Carey sprang to his feet. 

“All we want is our money,” exclaimed the 
planter in a thick voice. “We’re entitled to 
that, you know.” 

“Certainly. But would ’nt you rather have 
the land?” 

“That’s what I was going to suggest,” 
blurted out the Major, the banker and money- 
lender in him coming to the top. 

Morey smiled. 

“I thought so,” he remarked tartly. 

“What do you mean?” shouted the Major, 
his face almost purple with sudden rage. 

“I mean,” answered Morey coldly, “that for 
$14,000 you and Captain Barber and Mr. Brad- 


82 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

ner— and I reckon that’s the Barber Bank— are 
planning to get our plantation.” 

Major Carey exploded; 

Young man, you have some high and mighty 
ideas. Aspley plantation is dear at $20 an acre. 
This is the return for all my generosity.” 

‘‘You’re getting seven per cent annually for 
your generosity, ’ ’ retorted the boy. 

“Are you prepared to pay this debt?” came 
from Major Carey savagely. 

“I’ll be prepared in time,” rejoined Morey 
with assurance. “Our farm isn’t worth $20 an 
acre for tobacco. Perhaps it isn’t worth any 
more for corn. But, you know, land can be used 
for other things. It’s worth $200 an acre for 
fruit. I’ll sell enough of it to pay you all and 
I’ll be ready to make good when the money’s 
due.” 

Major Carey sank into a chair. 

“And if you or Captain Barber or Mr. Brad- 
ner have any occasion to see my mother on busi- 
ness in the meantime I suggest they make a re- 
port on the two years’ use of our one hundred 
and eighty-acre corn piece. And, by the way,” 
added Morey, “if my mother needs some small 
amounts of money this sununer I wish you 
would instruct Mr. Bradner to let her have what 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


83 


she needs. Yon can charge it to our open corn 
rent account.’’ 

The perspiration was rolling from the excited 
planter’s face. Leaning forward he grasped 
Morey by the arm. 

‘‘You’re a fool,” he said huskily. 

“So you told me last night— that I resembled 
my mother.” 

“You don’t know what you are talking about. 
Who told you to say this?” 

“The foolishness I inherited from my 
mother. Good-bye I ’ ’ 


CHAPTER VIII 

A CONSULTATION WITH AN ATTORNEY, 

It was one thing for Morey to announce that 
he meant to take care of his mother’s debts. 
It was another thing to decide just how this 
promise was to be carried out. But, although 
Morey had climbed the dusty, narrow stairs to 
Major Carey’s office with nervous dread, he 
came down with something of assurance— as far 
as one could make out from the expression on 
the boy’s countenance. His face was red, he 
was perspiring, his hat was well back on his 
mussed-up hair and he still held, absent-mind- 
edly, the scrap of paper on which he had been 
figuring. 

Within the entryway at the bottom of the 
stairs he paused, scratched his head, took out 
and counted all the money he had in the world— 
seventy-five cents. Then he laughed. 

‘‘I only need $14,091.75 more,” he said. 

‘‘For some moments he gazed out into the 
almost silent street. On a sudden impulse he 
pulled his hat down, started forward, and, 


U 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 85 

reaching the sidewalk, gazed to the right and 
left. Midway in the next block and over the 
postoffice he saw a sign, in washed-out blue and 
pale gold: ‘‘E. L. Lomax, Attorney and Coun- 
selor At Law. Fire Insurance and Money 
Loaned.’^ 

He started toward it but, passing the drug 
store on the corner, he entered, purchased a 
sheet of paper, an envelope and a stamp and 
on a greasy soda water counter wrote this note : 

Lee’s Court House, Virginia. 
Mr. Glenn Chrtiss, 

Hammondsport, N. Y. 

Dear Sir.— My order of recent date concern- 
ing the purchase of a six-cylinder aeroplane en- 
gine is hereby countermanded. Circumstances 
have arisen that force me to ask you to stop 
shipment; to wit, I have no money to pay for 
the engine. 

Your obedient servant, 

Mortimer Marshall. 

Sealing and stamping the note, Morey or- 
dered and drank a five-cent ice cream soda as 
if to fortify himself, and then, dropping his let- 
ter in the postoffice, he mounted the creaking 
stairs to the office of E. L. Lomax. The door 
was open, but the place was deserted. A few 


86 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

law books, a typewriter, white with dust, a box 
of sawdust used as a spittoon, a stove crammed 
full of paper scraps as if already prepared for 
the next winter, a disarranged desk and four 
walls almost completely covered with insurance 
advertisements, and several brown and cracked 
maps of Eappahannock County, confronted him. 

Morey turned to leave. On the door he saw 
a scrap of paper which seemed to have been 
there many days. ‘‘Gone out. Back soon,’^ it 
read. He turned, sat down and waited. An 
hour went by and the lawyer did not appear. 
Morey determined to make some inquiries. As 
he reached the bottom of the stairs a middle- 
aged man in a wide black hat and a long coat, 
who was sitting in the window of the postoffice, 
rose and greeted him. 

“Did you want to see me?” the man asked. 

“Are you Mr. Lomax?” 

The man, who had a large quid of tobacco in 
his mouth, of which there were traces on his 
shirt front, carefully expectorated through a 
grating on the flag stone sidewalk and waved 
his hand toward the stairs, on which there were 
more signs of tobacco. 

“Well, so long. Judge,” drawled a man who 
had been sitting in the same open window. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


87 


Are yon Judge Lomax?” began Morey when 
tbe two had reached the musty office above. In 
the vague roster of the town celebrities the 
name was familiar to him. 

‘‘How can I serve you?” answered the man, 
kicking the sawdust-filled cuspidor into the mid- 
dle of the floor. “I am Judge Lomax, but I 
have retired from the bench.” 

“My name is Marshall, Mortimer Marshall.” 

“Colonel Aspley Marshall’s son?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Proud to meet you, my boy. Yo’ fathah 
was one of my best friends. How can I servo 
you?” 

“Do you deal in lands? Do you buy and sell 
property?” asked Morey directly. 

“lam an attorney,” answered Judge Lomax, 
“but my legal business throws me more or less 
into such business.” 

“Have you any knowledge of our place? 
That is, do you know anything about the value 
of Aspley plantation?” 

“I know every foot of it. It is a fine bit of 
land.” 

“What is it worth?” 

Judge Lomax expectorated, rose and con- 
sulted one of the many land charts hanging on 


88 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


the wall, and then opened a worn volume on 
the table showing the farms of the county by 
section lines. 

‘‘Well, as to that,’’ he answered evasively, 
“it is hard to say— off hand. Are you desiring 
to sell the property?” 

“I want to borrow some money on it and, 
later perhaps, if the price is right, we may sell 
it.” 

Judge Lomax looked out of the windoiv. 

“I understand,” he said, after a pause, “that 
the entire place is mortgaged.” 

‘ ‘ For $14,000, ’ ’ answered Morey. ‘ ‘ The Bar- 
ber Bank holds the notes. They are due this 
fall. I want to pay them and save the place. I 
can’t let the land go for $14,000.” 

“That’s a good deal of money,” commented 
the lawyer. 

“But it’s nowhere near the value of the land. 
That’s only a little over $20 an acre for it. The 
land is certainly worth more than that.” 

“I reckon, if you can find a buyer. But it’s 
pretty hard to dispose of a parcel of ground 
of that size.” 

“How much is it worth, in your judgment, 
at a forced sale.” 

“I, ah, well, I could hardly say, off hand.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 89 

‘‘Haw much will you lend me on 

The lawyer shook his head. 

“Money is pretty close just now. And my 
clients are a little slow about lending on these 
old tobacco plantations. We know they are 
good land, but they don’t rank well as security.’’ 

“Couldn’t you lend me $15,000 at least!” 
asked Morey nervously. 

“I’ll look about for you and consult some of 
my moneyed clients.” 

“When can you give me an answer!” 

Judge Lomax knit his brows in thought and 
took a fresh chew of tobacco. 

“Just you wait here a minute,” he said at 
last. “I’ll run out and see a party. Perhaps 
I can help you out.” 

The lawyer hastened from his office. Ten 
minutes went by and he had not returned. The 
room was hot. Morey, in an effort to get a 
little fresh air moved to one of the windows. 
He sat down in it and looked out. At the same 
moment he caught sight of Judge Lomax on the 
steps of Barber’s Bank, in the next block. By 
the side of the lawyer stood the tall, heavy fig- 
ure of Major Carey. Morey sprang up, looked 
again and then watched the two men in earnest 
talk for several minutes. 


90 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


When the attorney came slowly into the room 
after another five minutes Morey knew what 
the verdict would be. Instinctively he had come 
to a quick conclusion. Judge Lomax had put 
him off until he could consult the enemy. 

‘‘I’m afraid,” began the lawyer, “that it’s 
going to be difficult to do what you want. Money 
is pretty tight now.” 

“Then you can’t do it?” said Morey with 
composure. 

“Not just now— later, perhaps.” 

“You wouldn’t mind telling me what Major 
Carey instructed you to say the land was 
worth?” continued the boy, successfully sup- 
pressing his indignation. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. You’ve done me a 
low down trick. I saw you rush right over to 
Barber and Carey for orders. Do you get a 
commission from them for not dealing with 
me?” 

“I’ll kick you downstairs.” 

“Try it.” 

The boy stood ready, his clear eyes fixed on 
the embarrassed loan agent. 

“You’re not a lawyer,” sneered Morey, 
“you’re a shyster.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 91 

Judge Lomax started forward, but Morey 
squared himself. 

‘^Oh, I’m not afraid of you— tattle tale!” ex- 
claimed the boy, knowing no more expressive 
epithet. ^ ‘ Come on ! ” 

^‘If you were n’t a child—” 

‘‘Got your orders, did you?” taunted Morey. 
“You’re a fine bunch here in this town. I’ll 
see you all, later. And I’ll make you all feel so 
small you can jump through a finger ring. And 
mark me,” added the boy, “if you ever get 
yourself mixed up with this Aspley place deal 
I’ll come for you first.” 

He turned and was about to leave the room 
when something prompted him to look around. 
The lawyer, white of face and trembling like 
a leaf, had lunged forward and an iron paper 
weight whizzed past the boy’s head striking and 
shattering the white frosted glass in the door. 
Morey dodged, stumbled, recovered himself and 
then, his own anger getting the better of him, 
he, too, sprang forward. The crazed lawyer 
was reaching for some object on his disordered 
desk. Morey could not see what it was— it 
might be a deadly weapon. He himself was un- 
armed. 

Alarmed and frenzied the boy threw himself 


92 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

forward, leaped on the lawyer’s back, clasped 
him in his strong young arms just as he caught 
sight of a revolver and then hurled the strug- 
gling man with all his might to the floor. There 
was a crash as Judge Lomax’s head struck the 
wooden cuspidor. The revolver rolled under 
the table and Morey ran from the office. 

It was now noon. Lee’s Court House streets 
were deserted. Hastening to the front of Bar- 
ber’s Bank, where he had left Betty, Morey 
was about to mount when, to his surprise, Cap- 
tain Barber and Major Carey suddenly ap- 
peared in the door of the bank. Morey was 
fighting mad. 

^‘I’ve just left your friend. Judge Lomax,” 
exclaimed the boy impudently. ‘‘He’s on the 
floor of his office with a busted head. He de- 
livered your message all right.” 

“Morey,” said Major Carey sharply and 
sternly. “You’ve lost your senses. You’re go- 
ing too far. You’re making the mistake of your 
life.” 

“Somebody’s making a mistake— Judge Lo- 
max did. You gentlemen have been running this 
town so long that you think you own it. I reckon 
the people here think you do. I don’t.” 

Major Carey came forward across the walk 







’\ .V^YJi-' 


Morey Rai? from the Office, 




In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


95 


with all the dignity that w’as commensurate with 
his indignation. 

‘^Come into the bank. We want to talk to 
you/’ he ordered with the authoritative tone of 
a parent. 

‘‘Are you ready to make a settlement for the 
rent of the corn land?” 

A couple of bystanders were within earshot 
and the two bankers looked at each other in 
alarm. 

“When I enter your office again, Major Ca- 
rey, I’ll be ready to settle with you. I hope 
you’ll be ready to settle with me.” 

And jumping on fat Betty’s back Morey loped 
down the dusty street toward Aspley place two 
miles away. 

At home he found a note from Lieutenant 
Purcell with the returned fishing rod. The note 
said; 

“My dear young friend; 

I had hoped to bring the rod in person and 
to have the pleasure of meeting you and your 
mother. I cannot thank you too much for the 
kind invitation you gave me and am most grate- 
ful for the use of your rod. I am forced today 
to proceed at once to Washington in the line of 
my present duty and for some weeks shall be 


96 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

stationed at Fort Meyer. Possibly, on my re- 
turn, after a month or so, we may meet again. 

Fred Purcell.’’ 

Morey passed a good part of the afternoon 
in his room. He thought, figured, walked the 
fioor and at times went out into the yard and 
looked critically at things that, heretofore, he 
he had never seen. At the evening meal his 
mother commented on his quietness. She at- 
tributed it to disappointment over the loss of 
his aeroplane motor. 

‘‘After all, Mortimer,” she said indulgingly, 
“I’ve been wondering today if we were not just 
a little hard with you. Perhaps it might be ar- 
ranged. ’ ’ 

The boy smiled, patted his mother’s shapely 
hand and said: 

“Don’t bother about that, mater. I’ve put it 
out of my mind. Major Carey’s arguments 
were absolutely convincing.” And he smiled 
again. 

“We never can repay Major Carey for all 
he has done for us,” said Mrs. Marshall, sip- 
ping her tea. 

“Well, any way, I’m going to try,” answered 
Morey. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 97 

But tins meant nothing to Mrs. Marshall, who 
was buttering a biscuit. 

^‘You had quite a long talk with our old 
friend. What was the nicest thing he said to 
youT^ 

‘‘He said I inherited some of your qualities/’ 
answered Morey with another smile. 

“The kind old flatterer,” murmured Morey’s 
mother. 

Nor could she then understand why Morey 
laughed so heartily. As the two left the table, 
on an inspiration, the boy took his mother in 
his arms and kissed her. It was the last kiss he 
gave her for some weeks. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE SECRET OF AN OLD DESK. 

Full as the day had been for Morey the com- 
ing of night did not put a stop to the working of 
his brain. Thinking seriously for the first time 
in his life, he had enough to engage him. Con- 
cerning his encounter with Judge Lomax he 
said nothing. In comparison with the difficult 
problem of saving his mother’s property 
this encounter was a small matter. And yet 
it was this that decided his first step in the 
struggle that was before him. 

The hoy was hungry for advice, the counsel 
of some good friend. His first thought was of 
Lieutenant Purcell. The soldier was a stranger, 
but Morey had already cut himself off from the 
people at Lee’s Court House whom, twenty-four 
hours before, he would have counted as his best 
friends. 

There isn’t one of them, young or old,” said 
the lad to himself, ^‘who would give me a square 
deal if it cost them a cent.” And by ‘‘them” 
he meant Carey, Barber and Bradner of the 
bank. 


98 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 99 

Since Lieutenant Purcell had already left for 
Washington this avenue of help was closed. 
Morey’s mother, of course, could be of no more 
assistance than a child. Never before had Morey 
felt so lonesome. For the first time he realized 
that he was fatherless and alone. When night 
fell a breeze came down from the mountains 
and it became too cool to stay outdoors. Mrs. 
Marshall, who had been sitting on the decaying 
gallery, retired to the musty old parlor and 
after Mammy Ca’line had lighted the crystal- 
hung table lamp, she made herself comfortable 
with an ancient copy of Dickens. Morey, stand- 
ing by her side, gazed upon the shadowy paint- 
ing of his father. 

Suddenly, out of the new longing in him, came 
an inspiration; he bethought him of his father’s 
old room and desk and papers. Perhaps there 
might be something there, some scrap to help 
him in his dilemma. He had no idea what there 
might be among his father’s things. But at 
least, since he had never even looked inside the 
desk, he wished to do so. He did not speak of 
what was in his mind, for the room and its con- 
tents were held almost sacred by his mother. 

Slipping quietly from his mother’s side, he 
had not reached the door when she recalled him. 


100 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘^Mortimer,’’ slie saidi in her tone of fine 
breeding, ‘‘I have been worrying about you all 
evening. We have not been considerate enough. 
I have been thinking of your dear father.” 

‘‘Yes, mother, so have I.” 

“Major Carey says you take after me in some 
respects.” 

Morey smiled. 

“It is your father you resemble. This wild 
fancy of yours is natural. If your father had 
had his way—” 

Then she paused and sighed. 

“What, mother? I never knew—” 

“You never knew that he spent two years 
abroad as a young man— that he studied in Ger- 
many— chemistry I think.” 

Morey caught his mother’s arm. 

“Some foolish idea. But he abandoned it. 
His father wished otherwise and he was as duti- 
ful as you are going to be.” 

“What was it?” exclaimed Morey. “What 
was his idea ? What were his hopes ? ’ ’ 

His mother sighed again. 

“I never understood,” she added. “It was 
all behind him when I knew him first. But it 
was something about paint made out of rocks 
or dirt— I can’t remember now.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 101 

'‘And they wouldn’t let him work out his 
ambitions?” exclaimed Morey. 

His mother smiled. 

"He became a planter, a gentleman and my 
husband.” 

"Well,” said Morey, a little bitterly, "don’t 
think of me any more this evening if it makes 
you think of father.” 

"And he had other notions,” continued Mrs. 
Marshall in a reminiscent tone, "why, before 
we were married, he had a workshop somewhere 
here on the plantation.” 

"What was he working on?” asked Morey 
abruptly. 

The mother shook her head. 

"I never knew,” she answered lightly, "but 
I do know, now, that his boy ought not be blamed 
for having the same fancies. I know you ’ll get 
over them,” she said, patting his hand, "and 
that’s why I’ve relented. It may be extrava- 
gant but, Morey, I’m not going to countermand 
your purchase You may have your engine.” 

His mother straightened up in her chair ready 
for Morey’s burst of gratitude. But it did not 
come. 

"It’s awfully good of you,” said Morey 
slowly and with the tears almost in his eyes. 


102 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

‘‘but I’m reconciled. I think Major Carey 
knows best. We can’t get it just now.” 

“Morey, I’m proud of you. There you are 
really like your father. He quit his foolish ex- 
periments to please me. ’ ’ And drawing the lad 
to her she patted his cheek. 

Morey’s head filled with a dozen ideas— 
among them, the wild desire to examine his 
father’s desk drew him like a magnet. When 
his mother had returned to her book again the 
boy slipped into the hall. A single candle flick- 
ered in the gloom. With this in his nervous 
fingers he made his way to the hall above. He 
knew that his father’s old office and study— the 
room in front across from his mother’s bed 
room was locked but he knew, too, where her 
keys hung. From the hook at the head of her 
bed he took these and, a moment later, he was 
in the long-locked apartment. 

He had been in it before but never alone. The 
air was heavy and hot. Between the two front 
windows stood the flat-topped table with its three 
drawers on each side. In the room were many 
other things— discarded clothing, two trunks, 
a case of books, a box of plantation account 
books— all these Morey had seen and wondered 
at on the few occasions when he had been per- 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 103 

mitted to remove, from time to time, his father’s 
saddle, gun, rod and— only the fall before, as a 
great prize— the old riding crop. 

But these things did not interest him now. 
Falling on his knees he drew open the drawers, 
tight with disuse. Each was full; insurance 
policies, hills of sale, weight tickets, auction lists, 
letters, small account books. In one a case of 
pistols; in another, European guide hooks and 
old steamship circulars. His hands covered 
with dust and his clothes white with it he paused 
after a quick examination. Then, with boyish 
impulse he turned again to the drawer contain- 
ing the pistol case. As he drew the case from 
its dusty bed he saw, beneath it, a flat packet 
of blue paper tied with red tape. 

Holding the mahogany pistol box under one 
arm with his free hand he lowered the dripping 
candle to the drawers. On the packet, about 
eight inches long by four inches wide and an 
inch deep, he read with difficulty, for the in- 
scription was in faded brown ink: “To whom 
it may concern. A dream of the future. Aspley 
Marshall, February 5th, 1889.” 

Grasping the package, he let the pistol case 
sink back into the drawer and, his heart beating 
wildly, hurried from the room. Locking the 


104 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

door and replacing the keys, he ran to his own 
little bedroom at the far end of the dark and 
wide upper hallway. Lighting his own candle 
he hesitated a moment and then slipped the rot- 
ten tape from the parcel. 

Opened, the packet turned out to be twelve 
sheets of heavy blue letter paper. The two bot- 
tom ones were covered with the outlines of a 
mechanical device resembling the cylinder of 
an engine. These were in black with figures 
on them in red, and seemed to be front and side 
elevations of some power apparatus. Next to 
them were two sheets of formulae in red figures 
with chemical equations. Morey made no at- 
tempt to understand them. Like the projections 
on the last pages they were beyond his compre- 
hension. Between these four sheets and a sin- 
gle sheet containing a few lines in brown ink 
on top, lay seven closely written pages begin- 
ning, ‘‘Stuttgart, 1888— Last will and testament 
of a man with a dream.” 

The inscription on the top sheet, evidently 
written later, was brief : 

“To whomsoever may take the trouble to 
open and read this record: 

“To those who are striving to harness and 
apply the forces of nature to man’s uses, these 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 105 

experiments are dedicated and bequeathed. In 
the knowledge that hydrogen gas in its free and 
pure state is the most powerful force known, 
I herein propound, theoretically, the practicabil- 
ity of using it as a motive power. The in- 
efficiency of coal, as transformed into steam, 
and the known high efficiency of hydrogen as an 
explosive force being recognized, placing it first 
in the list of potentialities, I suggest the intro- 
duction of hydrogen gas into engine cylinders. 
The following pages discuss : 

‘‘1. The liquefaction of pure hydrogen to 
render it practically portable. 

‘‘2. Its admixture with air behind a piston 
to secure a maximum of expansive force. 

*‘In brief, a plan for indefinitely increasing 
the power of gas engines by mixing unstable 
hydrogen with air.’’ 

Morey laid the sheets on the table as if they 
weighed pounds. He drew a long breath and 
whistled. 

“Well, what do you think of that,” he ex- 
claimed to himself. 

He had no idea what it meant. But that was 
not his first surprise. His astonishment was 
over the fact that such a record had been made 
by his father. That was more than he could 


106 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

reason out. Then he read the top sheet again. 

“The practicability of using hydrogen gas 
as a motive power! 

Suddenly a bit of information Morey had 
learned at Hammondsport came back to him— 
“hydrogen is sixteen times as powerful as dy- 
namite. ’ ’ 

He began thinking. “When my father wrote 
that we had no automobiles and no automobile 
motors. We had not even dreamed of the aero- 
plane and the delicate, powerful engine it de- 
mands. His idea must have been a dream. If 
he had a practical plan for increasing the effi- 
ciency of the motor he thought ahead of his 
day.” 

Morey tried to examine further into the tech- 
nical manuscript. But it was wholly beyond 
him. In the midst of his examination he sprang 
to his feet. 

“The trouble with aeroplanes,” he said to 
himself, “is that the power developed is not 
sufficient. My father’s dream may solve the 
problem. His hydrogen may make engines pow- 
erful enough to make the perfect airship.” 

The perplexities of the day seemed to disap- 
pear. Rays of hope burst through the gloom 
of the boy’s despondency. Mingled with the 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 107 

wave of sorrow that swept over him when he 
thought of his little understood, and no doubt 
disappointed father, was a sudden glow of en- 
thusiasm. He would finish his father ^s work. 
He would carry forward the dream into a prac- 
tical idea for the sake of his mother. 

It was nine o’clock. Tingling with excite- 
ment Morey hastily concealed the precious 
manuscript and drawings in his trunk and 
sought his mother. In the lower hall he heard 
a familiar low whistle. It was Amos crouching 
in the dark at the foot of the stairs. The black 
boy put his hand on Morey’s arm and motioned 
him silently to come out to the rear of the house. 
He shook his head ominously. 

‘‘ Wha’ fo’ yo’ don’ tell me yo’ beat up Jedge 
Lummix?” 

didn’t beat him up,” laughed Morey. 

”Dey say yo’ nigh kilt ’im. De town’s all 
’citement.” 

”Is he hurt?” asked Morey, a little alarmed. 
Then he told the colored boy what had hap- 
pened. At the end Amos shook his head. 

”I been to town fo’ a pail o’ lard. Marshall 
Eobi’son gwine come fo’ yo’ in de mornin’. Yo’ 
gwine be ’rested an’ locked up. Da’s what.” 

”Who told you?” asked Morey now thor- 


108 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

onglily alarmed. only acted in self defense. 
They can’t do anything to me.” 

‘^Mr. Robi’son done ast me was I Miss Mar- 
shall’s boy. An’ he said I kin tell yo’ he gwine 
come an’ git yo’ tomorrer.” 

“Why didn’t he come today!” 

Amos shook his head. 

“Ain’t tol’ me dat. Bnt yo’ better make 
has’e and see Major Carey.” 

“Is that what he told you to say?” asked 
Morey indignantly, clinching his fists. 

“Da’s what he says prezacly.” 

Morey walked down the path in a feverish 
quandary, Amos following him like a dog. Why 
bad he not been arrested at once if a warrant 
was out? Why should he be told to go and see 
Major Carey? The possibilities alarmed him. 
What if he was arrested and fined? He had no 
money to pay a fine. Would he be locked up 
in jail? Would the whole thing be used as a 
club over him? And just when he had the 
big, new project in mind— a resolution to put 
his father’s dream to the test? 

Suddenly a wild thought came to him. His 
face flushed and then his jaw set. He did not 
mean to be arrested and submit to the disgrace 
of it ; he was determined to see and consult with 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 109 

those who would properly estimate the value of 
his mother’s farm and sell it if possible; he 
meant to find those who could understand the 
meaning of his father’s secret. He had re- 
solved to leave Aspley Place at once. But where 
should he go f There was only one answer. He 
had but one friend old enough to advise him— 
Lieutenant Fred Purcell. But Lieutenant Pur- 
cell was in Washington. 

At eight o’clock the next morning, when 
Mammy Ca’line took Mrs. Marshall’s black cof- 
fee to her room she found, beneath the door, a 
note. She handed it to her mistress, who read : 

“Dear Mother: I have gone away for a short 
time— a few weeks, I reckon. It’s on business. 
Amos is with me. I took him because I know 
you’ll feel better about my going. Don’t worry. 
I can’t tell you where I am. In a short time 
I’ll write. You’ll hear that I licked Judge 
Lomax. I didn’t. He insulted me and I pro- 
tected myself. If Major Carey or Captain Bar- 
ber asks you where I am, tell him it’s none of 
their business. I’m sorry I could n’t tell you 
good-bye, but I was afraid you wouldn’t stand 
for what I’m doing, and I had to go. 

Tour loving son, 
Mobey.” 


CHAPTER X 

AMOS BECOMES A SANCHO PANZA. 

‘‘Amos, we’re going traveling,” exclaimed 
Morey. 

“Yo’ gwine run away?” 

“I’m going to run away and you are going 
with me.” 

“No, sah. I ain’t done no hahm. I ain’t 
skeered.” 

“I’m not scared, exactly, but I’m going away. 
I am going to seek my fortune.” The hoy 
smiled as he said it. Could he have seen the 
black boy’s face he would have been puzzled 
indeed. 

“Wha’ dat yo’ sayin’, Marse Morey?” 

“I’m going to leave this place; goin’ away to 
do something— to help myself.” 

“Yo’ is skeered— da’s what.” ^ 

“Well, let it go at that. Tonight I’m goin’ 
to duck— vamoose. I won’t he back here for 
a good many days— perhaps.” 

“Da’s foolish talk, Marse Morey. How come 
it yo’ gwine away when yo’ all jes’ got home 
toyo’ma?” 

HO 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


111 


‘‘You might understand and you might not, 
Amos. It is a new story hut it is a long one 
already. All you have to know is this— did you 
ever hear of any one working for a living! * ’ 

‘‘Not no white person, ’less’n he wanted to.’’ 

“I want to. I’m in trouble. It’ll be worse if 
I stay around here. So we’re going to Wash- 
ington.” 

“Yo’ and yo’ ma?” 

‘‘You and me!” 

‘‘Me!” 

“We are going to slip away tonight. If I 
had money I wouldn’t take you. I’d go on the 
train. But I haven’t any money. So I’m going 
to drive there in the surrey with Betty.” 

“Me gwine to Whas’ton!” 

“Tonight. And we start as soon as we can 
get ready.” 

The black boy had edged away in a state of 
half terror. 

“No, sah, chile. No, sah, Marse Morey. My 
pa won’t let me.” 

“Your father won’t know anyihing about it. 
And my mother won’t. That’s the reason we 
are going. If you speak of it to your father 
I’ll thrash you. Do you hear!” 


112 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


cain’t go to no Wash ’ton now. I’se gwine 
camp meetin’ Sunday.” 

” You’ll probably be camping by the roadside 
next Sunday,” laughed Morey. 

“No, sab, Marse Morey, I can’t do dat. I 
been to Linden once when de circus show was 
dere and pa done lambast me fo’ dat. How fur 
dat Wash ’ton?” 

“About seventy-five miles.” 

“An’ yo’ reckon we gwine git dar wid ole 
Betty?” 

“Or walk.” 

“Escuse me. Escuse me. How yo’ mean 
’bout dat ‘fortune and wukkin’?” 

“I mean, Amos, that things aren’t going right 
around here. We may have to move away from 
Aspley Place.” 

“Yo’ done makin’ spoht— ” 

“I can’t tell you about it, but I’ve got to go 
away to arrange things so that my mother and 
your father and Mammy Ca’line and you and 
I can stay here. If you don’t come along and 
help me and look after Betty we’ll have to find 
another home.” 

Amos was open-mouthed. 

“We all ain’t got no other home, Marse Mo- 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 113 

rey. We’s bound to stay here. Who gwine 
make us go VayT^ 

‘‘Never mind, now. But if you won’t go I’ll 
have to go alone. I thought you ’d stick by me. ’ ’ 

“Who gwine do chores fo’ Mammy?” 

“Who’s going to look after me?” answered 
Morey. 

The black boy was in a quandary. 

“I reckon yo’ ma gwine blame me fo’ dis.” 

“Amos, did you ever hear of Don Quixote?” 

“Dat a seegar?” 

“Don Quixote was a man. He lived a long 
time ago— before even the Marshalls began to 
raise tobacco. He was poor as, as, well as we 
are. But, like a young man I know, this didn’t 
seem to make much ditference to him. He sat, 
day after day, reading books about impossible 
things for this was in the time of chivalry—” 

“Yas, sah— I knows dat— chivaree. Da’s 
when yo’ get married.” 

Morey laughed, stopped his story and laying 
his hand on Amos’ arm led him into the dark, 
silent house, up the stairs to his room and, clos- 
ing the door, lit his candle. 

“Like to hear more about Don Quixote?” he 
asked, sitting down on his trunk. 

“I ain’t hear ’bout him.” 


114 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

Well, he was a fine fellow, only he was crazy. 
He got so twisted in his head that he couldn’t 
see anything straight. He thought his home 
and the things about him were all right. But 
the place was tumbling over his head and he 
didn’t know it. When his servant stole chick- 
ens for him—” 

‘^Who stole chickens? I ain’t steal no chick- 
ens. We done borrow ouah chickens.” 

Morey held up a warning finger, with a smile. 

‘^He couldn’t even see that the barn was rot- 
ten and no use ; that there were weeds all over 
his place ; that the house was too old to stand 
up.” 

Amos sighed and knit his brows in an effort 
to connect the old knight with something he 
could grasp mentally. 

‘‘And that wasn’t the worst,” went on Mo- 
rey, “when Don Quixote go so bad that he be- 
gan to ‘see things’; when he was ‘conjured’ out 
of his wits, he up, one day, and decided to leave 
his home and seek his fortune in other places.” 

“He done gwine to Wash ’ton?” 

“About the same thing,” explained Morey. 
“He took his old horse and rode away looking 
for— well everything he didn’t have at home.” 

“Dey gwine to take his farm away?” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 115 

‘‘No,’’ went on Morey, “he just went because 
he had a foolish idea that the impossible things 
he had read about might come true. ’ ’ 

Amos sighed again. 

“Dey cornin’ fo’ yo’ in de mawnin’ ” he in- 
terrupted. 

“That isn’t all about Don Quixote. He went 
away and everything turned out wrong. If it 
hadn’t been for one thing the old man would 
have starved. He had all kinds of trouble. How 
do you reckon he got home again, all safe and 
sound?” 

“How dat?” queried the black boy, straining 
his wits to understand. 

“I say, the old Knight of La Mancha, in other 
words, Don Quixote, filled with the delusion that 
the world was really a land of chivalry, which 
in truth had even then passed away, set forth 
upon his knightly steed to do deeds of valor in 
honor of fair ladies and to show his courage. 
Instead he found only derision, cuffs, kicks and 
a foodless reception. How then, do you imag- 
ine he was able to return home again?” 

“Mus’ ’a been dat chivaree.” 

“Listen, Amos, this crazy old man got back 
home because the only person in all the world 


116 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


who really oared for him went with him and 
looked after him.’’ 

‘‘He done have a colored man?” 

“Almost. He had old Sancho Panza. Sancho 
was his hoy, and he never left him.” 

Amos was in sore straits. Morey said no 
more for a few moments, but he began making 
preparations for his departure. He laid out 
a few clothes and took down the old, battered 
traveling bag that he had unpacked but the day 
before; the black boy’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Marse Morey,” whimpered Amos, “yo’ 
ain’t foolin’ me? Yo’ sho’ gwine away to 
Wash’ton?” 

“As soon as I can pack my grip, write a note 
to my mother, get together all Mammy Ca ’line’s 
loose food and hitch up.” 

“An’ yo’ ain’t goin’ to tell yo’ ma?” 

Morey shook his head. 

“But she ain’t gwine skin yo’ like my pa 
trounce me ! ” ' 

“I’ll see that you aren’t punished.” 

Big tears rolled down Amos’ sunken cheeks. 
Then his big black hands wandered over his 
patched and tattered garments. As Morey laid 
some fresh linen in his valise the colored boy 
looked shamefacedly at his own faded blue 


In^ the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


117 


calico shirt. Then he dug his shoeless toes into 
the carpet. 

Finally, with a gulp, he exclaimed : 

‘‘Marse Morey, I jes’ natchally cainT.’’ 

‘‘Then I’ve got to go alone and take my 
chances,” answered Morey, opening his trunk 
and taking out the blue packet, his father’s 
“dream,” that was to mean so much to him. 

“I ain’t got no clo’es,” almost sobbed the 
black boy. 

“What’s the matter with your meetin’ pants 
and the shoes you had on last night?” 

“Bern’s my Sunday does!” 

“All right. Goodbye.” 

“Sides, pa’s in de cabin.” 

Morey turned, smiled and put his arm on 
Amos’ shoulder. 

“Of course you’re going. We’ve lived to- 
gether all our lives. You go and tell your father 
I want to see him right away, out on the 
kitchen gallery. While he ^s gone pack up your 
duds. I’ll tell him to hitch up, that we have to 
go to town. Hide your things in the surrey while 
he is gone.” 

There was no delay in carrying out this plan. 
By the time Marsh Green had responded to Mo- 
rey’s summons, hooked up old Betty to the sur- 
rey and brought the ancient equipage to the 


118 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

barnyard gate, Morey was ready. His letter to 
his mother had been written and in the weeds 
and grass, well down toward the front yard gate 
was a little pile of baggage, a bulging traveling 
bag, a package of books and circulars, two 
blankets and a basket of such food as he could 
find— two loaves of bread, a dozen cold biscuits, 
a small paper of sugar, a few pinches of tea, a 
quart cup, two glasses of jelly, a tin can of some 
preserves and a half pound of salt pork. Amos’ 
baggage was not even tied in a bundle. 

‘^Marse Morey,” said old Marsh, as Morey 
and Amos climbed into the creaking vehicle, 
^‘yo doin’ right. Go right to Major Carey. He 
git yo’ outen yo’ trouble. But don’t yo’ go 
traipsin’ ’roun’ dat Captain Barber. He ain’ 
no better dan Jedge Lummix. Go right to Major 
Carey— he’s yo’ frien.’ ” 

“Still,” laughed Morey, “we might meet 
Marshal Robinson and he might put me in jail. 
So goodbye until I see you again.” He held out 
his hand. 

“Go ’long, boy. Ain’t no Marshal Rob’ison 
gwine git yo’,” and the old darkey chuckled. 
“Amos,” he added with mock sternness, “don’t 
yo’ come back ’yar widdout Marse Morey.” 

“No, sah, I won’t,” responded the perturbed 
Amos. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 119 

‘^Anyway, goodbye, Marsh, ’till we see you 
again. We may not come back right away. 
Goodbye. ’ ’ 

The old ^‘overseer” turned away with an- 
other chuckle. 

‘‘Major Carey ’ll git yo’ outen yo’ mess. I’ll 
leab de gate open. Take care ob dat boss.” 

By the time sleepy Betty had reached Mo- 
rey’s cache of clothing and provisions, old 
Marsh was well on his way back to his cabin. As 
Morey stored the valise, basket and blankets in 
the surrey, his hand fell on a hard round ob- 
ject. Drawing it out into the pale starlight he 
discovered something tied in an old red bandan- 
na handkerchief. 

“This yours, Amos?” he asked, feeling the 
unyielding contents. 

“Das mine, shorely.” 

“What is it?” 

“Ain’t we gwine to Washn’ton?” 

“As soon as we can get there!” 

“Ain’t dat officer man dar?” 

“Lieutenant Purcell? Yes. But—” 

“Da’s my rock.” 

“Your rock?” 

“Da’s ma rock from de crick. Dat soldier 
man gwine to git his if we eber comes toged- 
der.” 


CHAPTER XI 


MOEEY MAKES AMOS A NOTE. 

It was eleven o’clock of a moonless June night 
when Morey and Amos closed the disjointed 
gate and turned their backs on Aspley Place. 
There was a little chill in the air and the vapor 
of dew. On each side of the broad and rough 
dirt road little more could be seen than the 
creeper-covered fences. Neither cabin nor 
farmhouse showed a light. Even over the dis- 
tant village of Lee’s Court House, toward which 
old Betty’s head was turned, hung a pall of 
blackness. 

Morey was in high spirits. Considering the 
dire possibilities of his flight he might well have 
been downhearted. But the spell of coming ad- 
venture was on him. He patted his feet on the 
rickety bottom of the surrey, he whistled, he 
cocked his feet on the loose dashboard as he 
smacked the lines on Betty ’s back, and he hum- 
med the darky songs that Amos knew. But 
Amos did not join in the choruses. The black 
boy was far from being in jovial spirits. 

‘‘Yo’ all ain’t gwine plumb thro’ de town is 
yo’f” 


120 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 121 

This was his first concern. 

‘‘You don't think the marshal is awake now, 
do you?" answered Morey, with a resounding 
“Giddap, Betty." 

“He's loafin' on de square, ef de saloons is 
open," Amos assured him. 

“Perhaps it would be safer to go around," 
concluded Morey, “but it's a long way." 

There were no side streets in the village. 

“De longes' way roun' is de bestes'," was 
Amos' advice. 

As they approached the village, more than 
one light could be seen, and Morey, a little to his 
own disgust, permitted himself to turn out and 
make a long detour around the town. This ac- 
complished, it was then nearly midnight— he 
took the main road to Warrenton. That town 
was fifteen miles distant. It had now grown so 
cool that both boys wrapped blankets about 
themselves, and half asleep and with little to 
say, they bobbed against each other while Betty 
jogged along. 

The night seemed endless. There was no 
comfort in trying to sleep curled up on the rear 
seat— the road was too rough. Suddenly Morey 
roused himself. He had fallen asleep, and he 
awoke to find Betty standing by the roadside, 


122 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

nibbling at the clover in the fence corner. It 
was lighting up in the east and the haze of early 
dawn outlined the road dropping away before 
him into a wide valley over which lay a heav^' 
mist. Amos was leaning against him, sound 
asleep. It was time for Betty to rest and feed. 

Pushing the tired animal forward again until 
the bottom of the valley was reached, Morey 
came to what he was looking for— a little creek. 
Running south was a ‘‘river’’ road. Turning 
on to this until he was well into a bottom land 
grove of trees, he aroused Amos. 

“Wake up, boy; camp number one!” 

The colored boy aroused himself and then fell 
over asleep again. 

“Breakfast!” exclaimed Morey in his ear. 

Instantly he bolted upright, glanced about in 
an alarmed way and groaned. Blinking his eyes 
he whispered : 

“ Marse Morey, I done had a bad dream.” 

“Well, you dream about unhooking Betty and 
finding her some water and grass.” 

“I done dream dat old crazy man yo’ all’s 
tellin’ ’bout been chasin’ me.” 

“Don Quixote?” 

“Da’s him. He been ridin’ right hyar wid 
us in de back seat.” And Amos turned sud- 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 123 

denly as if expecting to see the ghost of the old 
knight sitting in the surrey. 

Morey laughed as he forced Betty through 
the underbrush. 

‘‘What did he say?” 

“He been shoutin’ ‘Go on, niggah! Go on, 
white boy! I’s wid you!’ No, sah, I ain’t gwine 
on, I’s gwine home. Dat ol’ boy sho’ly don’ 
mean no good. Da’s his ghos’— I seen him. He 
cain’t conjure me, no, sah. I don’t reckon I’ll 
go no furder. Marse Morey, dat ol’ boss done 
played out a ’ready.” 

Morey was on the ground limbering his stif- 
fened limbs and laughing. 

“If I could just find my knife I lost,” he mur- 
mured while he felt in his pockets, “I’d cut a 
new whip. ’ ’ 

Amos started, opened his mouth and closed it 
nervously and then climbed from the surrey 
without further comment. 

“If any one stole that knife,” continued Mo- 
rey, “and I ever found it out I’d get Marshal 
Kobinson to lock him up. I paid a dollar and a 
half for that knife— ” 

Amos was already busy with Betty. There 
was no further complaint about old Don Quixote 
conjuring him. When the mare had been 


124 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


watered in the creek and tied in a bunch of grass 
where she might find what sustenance she could, 
the sleepy boys had some cold biscuits, jelly and 
water, and, with a blanket under them and an- 
other over them, they turned in for a nap. 

About noon Morey awoke, stiffer than ever 
and hungry as a young bear. The sun had made 
its way down through the foliage and he was 
wet with perspiration. Amos, the blanket still 
over his head, was snoring like a rip saw. As 
the white boy reached over to twist Amos’ nose 
his hand felt something hard on the blanket by 
his side. It was his purloined knife. It had 
slipped from the black boy’s pocket. When 
Amos finally aroused himself he saw his white 
companion sitting by his side carefully exam- 
ining the knife. 

A look of wild alarm lengthened Amos’ face. 
Clasping his big black hand against his pocket 
he exclaimed: 

‘‘Whar yo’ git dat?” 

Morey smiled and pointed to their improvised 
bed. 

“I found it here between us— here on the 
blanket. ’ ’ 

^‘I ain’t stole no knife ! Yo’ ain’t ’spicion me, 
is yo’?” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


125 


''I’d hate to think you’d steal.” 

"Cross ma h’aht, I ain’t stole yo’ knife.” 

Morey smiled. 

"I wonder who put it here!” he said. 

"Marse Morey,” exclaimed Amos suddenly. 
"I know who done bring yo’ knife hack. De 
ghos’ oh de ole crazy man, he brung it. Dat ol’ 
ghos’ I see in de back seat, he tryin’ to conjure 
us. Da’s what.” 

"Old Don Quixote’s spirit!” 

"Dat old crazy man’s sure wid us. Better 
look out, Marse Morey. I’se gwine put a charm 
on de ole conjure dis night ef I kin fin’ any 
spunk water. ’ ’ 

"And you didn’t take my knife!” 

"Don’t you ’suit me, Marse Morey. Don’t 
yo ’ let ole Keyhole put sech notions in yo ’ head. 
How come dat knife hyar! Yo’ ast old Keyhole 
ghos’— don’ ast me. I reckon we better be git- 
tin ouah eatin’.” 

The noonday meal made deep inroads in the 
stock of provisions. When the adventurers had 
reached the main road again, crossed the stream 
and ascended to the far side of the valley, War- 
renton was before them. They were less than 
twenty miles from home and were a little ner- 
vous about being seen so near to Lee’s Court 


126 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

House, but it was necessary to pass through the 
village to inquire their way. This led them al- 
most north. 

At two o’clock Betty pulled into the settle- 
ment of Baltimore in Farquar county. The next 
town would be Centerville in Fairfax County, 
eighteen miles beyond. Baltimore was a cross- 
roads village with a ‘ ^ hotel, ’ ’ a blacksmith shop 
and two stores. At the hotel, where Betty was 
watered from a moss-covered wooden trough as 
big as a bath tub, Morey spent twenty-five cents 
of his fortune for oats. Crossing the street to 
the general store, he expended twenty cents 
more for bologna sausage and five cents for 
some very old and musty crackers. 

About four o’clock, in a shady spot by a little 
unbridged stream, a halt was made and Betty 
was given water and oats. The two boys regaled 
themselves with bread, bologna and jelly. The 
afternoon was drowsily warm. Betty was tired 
and the cool shade was inviting. Both boys fell 
into a doze. In a half hour or so Morey was 
awakened by a violent torrent of exclamations. 
Amos was chasing and belaboring a gaunt road- 
side hog. Of their food the only article left by 
this rascally thief was the tin of preserves. The 
last of their bread, crackers and all their pork 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


127 


had disappeared. When Amos returned, hot 
and angry, he held a scrap of salt pork rind. 

Why didn^t you put the things in the wagon, 
Sancho?^^ laughed Morey. 

^‘Dat ain’t no Sanko, da’s a hog. All ouah 
suppah and breakfus’ and dinnah gone now. 
How far dat Wash ’ton?” 

‘‘We’ll get there tomorrow,” explained the 
white boy with another laugh. 

Amos scratched his head. 

“We gwine to eat, den?” 

“If we have luck.” 

“Den I reckon we better has’en on.” 

Further investigation revealed another ca- 
lamity. Betty, prowling about, had discovered 
the paper bag of oats in the rear of the surrey. 
She had leisurely consumed the feed reserve. 

“Never mind,” expostulated Morey, “there’s 
grass and water.” 

“I cain’t eat no grass,” remonstrated the 
black boy. 

“Here’s preserves,” suggested Morey. 

“I want’s meat, da’s what I wants.” 

“You’ve had enough meat for one day,” 
laughed Morey, who, being full of bologna sau- 
sage, crackers and jelly, refused to bother about 


128 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

the future. “We can boil some greens in our 
quart cup this evening. 

The colored boy began to wipe the piece of 
pork rind on the grass. 

“But no pork— -just grass and water/’ went 
on Morey. 

At seven o’clock the white houses of Center- 
ville rose above the orchards on a distant hill. 
The road was up grade and Amos had been 
walking to relieve Betty. He had been shaking 
his head and growling about the absence of sup- 
per. They had just passed a cabin, some dis- 
tance back from the road, when Morey heard a 
squawk and a flutter and turned in time to see 
the colored boy throw himself on a fat hen. Be- 
fore Morey could call out Amos was on his feet 
and with one swift, deft whirl he had wrung the 
chicken’s neck. Springing forward he hurled 
the still kicking fowl into the wagon and spring- 
ing up behind called out : 

“Git goin’, Marse Morey, de ole woman 
cornin’.” 

Over the tops of the fence weeds Morey could 
just make out an excited colored woman wad- 
dling towards the road stile. 

“Da’s mah chicken, da’s mah fowl,” she was 
crying. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


129 


‘‘Giddap, Betty,” shouted Amos. ^^De ole 
woman got a stick. Make has’e.” 

Instead, Morey drew the old horse up sharply 
and sprang out. 

As the panic-stricken old mammy came roll- 
ing down the road, shaking her stick and yell- 
ing ‘‘Da’s mah chicken,” the white hoy began 
calling, in turn: 

“All right. Aunty, don’t get excited. We 
made a mistake. ’ ’ 

“Gib me mah fowl,” wailed the colored 
woman. 

‘ ‘ Two bits, ’ ’ shouted Morey, ‘ ‘ two bits. ’ ’ 

As he held up his last quarter the old colored 
woman’s angry face softened. Having satisfied 
her, Morey returned to the vehicle and the as- 
tounded Amos. 

“Now,” began Morey, “if we should happen 
upon a toll gate, we ’re stuck. I haven ’t a cent. ’ ’ 

Amos shifted uneasily. 

“Wha’fo’ you gwine waste yo’ two hits dat 
way? We could git away!” 

“It was burning a hole in my pocket,” 
answered his white companion. “But, Amos, 
when you want to steal you’d better not let me 
know it.” 

“Dat wan’t stealin’. Da’s a wild chicken.” 


130 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

hope it is. We ^11 have game for break- 
fast.” 

‘‘Yo’ jes’ fro’ dat two bits away,” growled 
Amos. 

Betty had been urged ahead and Centerville 
was just before them. Amos had crawled into 
the rear seat and was mumbling to himself 
about the chicken and the squandered quarter. 
At last Morey felt a touch on his arm. 

‘ ‘ Ef we all had dat money we could get some 
crackers and cheese, couldn’t we?” 

‘‘You’ll get chicken broiled on a stick if you 
get anything tonight. But I reckon we ought to 
save the chicken for tomorrow. ’ ’ 

“Cheese and crackers would go pow’ful well. 
Dey’s got cheese in dis town.” 

Morey whirled about to retort angrily that 
the “quarter” episode was closed. But, instead 
of reprimanding his colored servitor, he paused 
with mouth wide open. Amos’ big black hand 
was stretched out towards him. In it were six 
nickels. 

“Dat two bits?” inquired Amos, in doubt. 

“Where did you get that?” asked Morey, re- 
covering from his surprise. 

“I’s got money, I has. Bar’s yo’ two bits yo’ 
fussin’ ’bout.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 131 

‘ ‘ Have you any more ? ’ ’ asked tlie white boy, 
eagerly. 

‘H’s got mah banjo money. I been savin’ fo’ 
to git a banjo fo’ two berry-pickin’s.” 

‘^How much?” 

Amos shook his head. 

‘‘Ah been too busy to ezackly count it.” 

“Let me see— let me count it.” 

Slowly and with some misgiving, Amos drew 
from his pocket a long-used handkerchief with 
a knot in one corner. Morey pulled up Betty 
along the road and climbed into the rear of the 
surrey. Hardly waiting for the hesitating black 
boy to hand over the little treasure Morey took 
the handkerchief, slipped the knot and dumped 
the earnings of many a day’s work in the berry 
patches on the seat. 

A crumpled two dollar bill ; three silver half 
dollars; three dimes; six nickels, and twenty- 
eight copper cents. 

“Good for you, Amos! Why didn’t you tell 
me you had all this money?” 

“How much money I got dar?” 

“Four dollars and thirty-eight cents.” 

“How much is dat, wid dis?” asked Amos, 
holding out his six nickels. 


132 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

‘‘That makes four dollars and fifty-eight 
cents. ’ ’ 

“Da’s why I’s goin’,’^ exclaimed Amos, his 
eyes glittering for the first time that day, and 
his sunken cheeks swelling with a happy smile. 
“I’se gwine to Wash ’ton to git mah banjo.” 

Morey gathered up the loose coins, took the 
nickels from Amos’ clinched fingers and slowly 
dropped the treasure into his own pocket. The 
black hoy gazed open mouthed— too alarmed to 
speak. This done, Morey took out his little note 
book, his pencil, and on a page of the hook he 
wrote, hastily: 

“I promise to pay Amos Green $4.58 one day 
after date, at 7% interest. 

“Mortimeb Marshall.” 

“There, Amos, that’s a note. I’ve borrowed 
your money. You’ll get interest on it now. 
We’ll stop at the Grand Central Hotel in Cen- 
terville tonight like gentlemen. Giddap, Betty.” 

And, while the stitfened old mare began trot- 
ting along again toward the village, Amos sat as 
if in a trance, with Morey’s note in his clumsy 
fingers. 


CHAPTEE Xn 


THE RUNAWAYS DISCOVERED. 

A little after seven o’clock, those citizens of 
Centerville who were diligently loafing in front 
of the Center House, were amused to see a wob- 
bling vehicle dash up to that hostelry with an 
extraordinary burst of speed. It was hardly 
necessary to check the steed that drew the Mar- 
shall surrey, for old Betty stopped of her own 
accord at sight of the water trough. 

“Boy,” exclaimed Morey, in a gracious but 
positive command, “see to the animal.” 

Amos was nonplussed. In the days when the 
Center House was the Fairfax Inn there had 
been ample stable and coach room in the rear, 
but these existed no longer. While Morey made 
his way into the office of the hotel, Amos stood 
holding Betty’s bridle. Morey registered: 
“Mortimer Marshall and servant, Lee’s Court 
House, Va.” 

“Want a regular room for the nigger?” 
asked the proprietor. 

That had not occurred to Morey. 

“What are your rates?” he asked, a little 
alarmed. 


133 


134 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


Supper over/’ explained tlie host, ‘‘unless 
you want a special meal. Reg’lar rates $2 per 
day.’’ Then he looked out and had another 
glance at Amos. “I reckon I kin make it half 
price fur the boy. But ef we git supper for you 
it’ll be extra.” 

Morey made a rapid calculation. He was 
tired and hungry and wanted a bath. It couldn’t 
come to over $2.50. 

“I am traveling,” he answered, “and a little 
tired. The accommodations along the road are 
not the best. If you have a young chicken I’d 
like it broiled with a baked potato, some hot 
biscuits, fruit and coffee. My boy will eat with 
me—” 

“We’ve got ham and eggs and tea,” re- 
marked the landlord. 

“That will do very nicely,” replied Morey 
smiling. 

“What you goin’ to do with your hoss?” 

“My servant will look after the animal.” 

“Hain’t got no stable here. Two blocks up,” 
exclaimed the Center House host, as he re- 
treated toward the kitchen. 

When Amos had carried Morey’s bag into the 
office he drove Betty to “Abson’s Livery, Feed 
and Sale Stable,” while Morey, unassisted as to 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 135 

his bag, followed the proprietor to his room. 
Making a brief toilet he waited for the supper 
bell. In the course of twenty minutes, hearing 
a commotion outside, he stepped to the window. 
But it was too dark to see anything. Yet his 
suspicions were aroused. 

‘‘Hello boy, goin^ to meetin’!’’ 

“Purty slick nigger, eh I” 

Morey rushed downstairs. On the newly 
sprinkled board sidewalk and in the full glare 
of the light stood Amos, a picture of smiles and 
colors. In Morey ^s trousers— his “meetin’ 
pants,’’— shoes, and one of Morey’s two-year- 
old hats, a starchless but glaring white shirt, a 
paper collar and a blue ready-made necktie in 
which shone an elaborately mounted red stone, 
Amos was ready for the admiration of Center- 
ville. 

“Eigged out to beat yer boss!” shouted an- 
other humorist. 

“Yer meal’s ready,” interrupted the proprie- 
tor. 

Morey beckoned to the colored boy and led 
him into the dining-room. 

“What in the world does this mean, Amos? 
Where ’d you get all this stuff?” 


136 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


“Don’t you bodder ’bout wbar I git dat. Dese 
is mab Sunday do ’es. ’ ’ 

“This isn’t Sunday. What’d you dress up 
that way for?” 

“Whar I gwine leab ’em? I ain’t no trunk. 
I ain’t gwine leab dese garmens’ in no liberty 
stable.” 

Morey laughed. 

“You’re pretty gay for a boy who hasn’t a 
cent I ’ ’ 

“Cain’t I hab ten cents, Marse Morey?” 

“What do you want ten cents for? You’ve 
eaten. ’ ’ 

“I allays has some cin’mon draps w’en I’s 
dressed up. An’ I wants one dem cahds, one of 
dem pitcher cahds, to send back to pa at de 
Co’ht House.” 

“You mean one of those picture postal 
cards?” 

“I ain’t nebber had none o’ dem cahds yit.” 

Morey laughed. 

“You can have cinnamon drops, Amos, but 
we’re not sending back post cards yet.” 

The two boys consumed their ham and eggs 
and left the dining-room. 

“Mr. Marshall,” exclaimed the proprietor, as 
Morey passed through the combination parlor 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


137 


and office, ‘ ‘ I reckon you know ’taint customary 
for colored persons to eat in the main dinin’ 
room. ’ ’ 

‘‘I don’t object,” answered the boy. 

‘‘Some o’ the folks about here is findin’ 
fault.” 

“But we were in there alone.” 

“It’s the principle o’ the thing. Colored folks 
has their place. ’ ’ 

“Why didn’t you say so before he went in?” 

“I reckoned you all knowed it.” 

“Well I didn’t. We’ll leave your place if you 
prefer.” 

“Oh ye’re welcome, yerself, an’ I reckon he 
kin stay. But I’m allowin’ yo’ ought to pay ex- 
try fer him instid o’ half price.” 

Morey looked at the proprietor and his 
usually smiling face changed to a cold expres- 
sion. Then he smiled. 

“You are the proprietor, aren’t you?” 

“Me and my wife.” 

“Well, I am Mortimer Marshall, of Aspley 
Place, Lee’s Court House. In my part of Vir- 
ginia a contra-ct is a contract. Where I go my 
boy goes.” 

“A nigger ’at kin dress like that coon, kin pay 
his bills, I reckon.” 


138 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

‘‘Do you want your money nowT’ 

The landlord’s loud talk had attracted a half 
dozen town worthies who now crowded into the 
little room. The landlord was mad. 

‘ ‘ I knowed who you was as soon as you drive 
up,” he retorted. 

As the agitated hotel keeper reached over and 
picked up a newspaper from the ink-smeared 
desk the curious onlookers crowded forward, 
Amos among them. The matter that had been 
the sole topic of conversation for the last half 
hour was coming to a dramatic sequel. 

‘ ‘ I knowed you. I reckon you all thought we 
don’t see no newspapers in Centerville. How 
about this piece in the paper?” 

Morey took the paper, followed the direction 
of a shaking finger and read : 

MURDEROUS ASSAULT 

ON MEMBER OF BENCH. 

Scion of Aristocratic Virginia Family 
Attacks Ex-Jurist. 

“Lee’s Court House, Virginia.— About noon 
today Mortimer Marshall, the son of the late 
Colonel Aspley Marshall of Aspley Place, made 
a mysterious and as yet unexplained attack on 
Ex- Judge E. L. Lomax, in the latter’s offices in 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 139 

this city. Marshall escaped, hat will he arrested 
in the morning. The jurist, who had lain un- 
conscious for over an hour, finally managed to 
call for assistance and he is now lying at his 
home with probably fatal wounds. So far, he 
has been unable to give but a fragmentary ac- 
count of the assault which he says was wholly 
unprovoked and made when his back was 
turned. Some blunt instrument was used—’’ 

Morey threw the paper on the floor. 

‘‘That’s a lie, mainly,” he exclaimed. 

“Anyway we don’t want no runaways in the 
Center House.” 

“Amos,” ordered Morey, “get my bag.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, I reckon not, ’ ’ spoke up the hotel owner, 
“not ’till you pony up.” 

Amos responded promptly. One over-eager 
spectator, the one who had referred to him as a 
“slick nigger,” he jostled smartly to one side. 
With a set jaw and a look of defiance at the pro- 
prietor, Morey turned, passed down the hall and 
mounted the stairs to the room assigned him. A 
moment later he was in the office. Dropping his 
bag vigorously on the floor he exclaimed : 

“What’s my bill?” 

The owner of the place had lost a little cour- 


140 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


age by this time. But he stepped around be- 
hind the desk, cleared his throat and said : 

‘^You used that room and it^s the same as 
though you slept in it. That^s a dollar. Your 
supper was 35 cents. The nigger ^s supper ’ll be 
70 cents. That’s $2.05.*’ 

Morey walked up to the desk. ‘‘The room 
may be $1.00 a day. You’ve driven me out of it. 
I’ll not pay a cent for it. My supper is all right 
and a good one for the money. This boy’s meal 
was to be half price. That’s 17% cents. My bill 
is 52% cents. Here’s 53.” 

He slapped the coins on the desk and faced 
the spectators. 

“Now you loafers fall back or you’ll get wliat 
the ex-jurist got and right in front instead of 
from behind. Scat!” 

A panic struck the open-mouthed Centerville 
citizens and they bumped against each other in 
their fright. As the two boys were about to step 
from the room the man behind the desk made a 
feeble request. 

“Some one o’ you git the marshal.” 

“For what?” snapped Morey. 

“Fo’ dis,” sounded by his side, and Amos, the 
bag in one hand, shoved forward the red ban- 
danna containing his carefully preserved rock. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 141 

“De fus’ pusson crosses mah path gits dis on 
de haid. It’s a dornick.” 

Without interruption Morey and the valiant 
Amos made their way to the livery barn. The 
proprietor, one of the panic-stricken hotel spec- 
tators, came running after them. With nervous 
energy he assisted Amos in hitching up Betty. 

‘ ‘ What’s your bill ? ’ ’ asked Morey. 

The man hesitated. 

‘‘I reckon you done owe me ’bout two bits.” 

Slowly climbing into the surrey, Morey said : 

‘‘Here’s fifty cents for you and I want you to 
take a message to your marshal. If he hasn ’t a 
warrant for my arrest he’d better not follow me. 
If he does— I’ll break his head.” 

“I reckon you all kin sleep in my barn if you 
ain’t got no hotel.” 

“Thanks,” retorted Morey, “I’ve had enough 
of Centerville. It’s small potatoes.” 

Passing the drug and grocery store a moment 
later, in spite of the already growing crowd of 
curious persons, he stopped Betty, alighted and 
entered the place. 

“Got any cinnamon drops'?” asked Morey. 

The proprietor, a little out of breath, finally 
discovered a jar of the confection several years 
old. 


142 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘ ' Gimme a nickel ’s worth ! ’ ’ 

Gaping faces were in the door while this 
transaction was in progress. But as Morey left, 
a clear path instantly opened before the desper- 
ate fugitive. 

‘‘Amos,’’ he said, springing into the surrey, 
“here’s your cinnamon drops. And for good- 
ness’ sake don’t put on those clothes again with- 
out telling me.” 

“Marse Morey,” exclaimed Amos with a sigh, 
“I’s ’bliged fo’ dem cin’mon draps, but is we 
gwine drive all night ? ’ ’ 

“There is a real town on ahead, only seven 
miles. If the hotel is more hospitable we’ll 
sleep there.” 

‘ ‘ How much ma ’ money dat gwine cos ’ ? ” 

‘ ‘ Don ’t you bother about money. I ’m the one 
to worry. You are protected. You have my 
note.” 

“I’s got de note all right. But I don’ see no 
banjo.” 

“Forget the banjo. We are playing for higher 
stakes.” 

“Steaks? We don’ need no steaks. We’s got 
a fat pullet.” 

“Eat your cinnamon drops and be happy,” 
laughed Morey. “Giddap,” he clucked to the 


Ifb the Clouds for Uncle Sam 143 

tired Betty and they rolled slowly out of Cen- 
terville. 

Suddenly, his mouth full of the spicy confec- 
tion, Amos grabbed Morey by the shoulder. 

‘‘Don’ look dat way, look dis way.” 

Whirling the white boy on the seat Am ns 
pointed to the western horizon. The thin sickle 
of a new moon was just visible. 

“Yo’ come nigh seein’ dat moon ober yo’ 
right shoulder. Dat’d sho’ly brung us bad 
luck.” 

“What shoulder did you see it over?” 

“I almos’ seen it ober de left shoulder. I 
reckon we’s all right. But I’s kind o’ skeered. 
Dat crazy ole man Keyhole boun’ to come back.” 

But if he had come back Amos would have 
been too tired to recognize the ghost of the old 
knight. Still sucking at the cinnamon drops he 
soon fell asleep. When he awoke Morey was 
dickering with the half-asleep owner of a small 
hotel in Fairfax. A little of the young Virgin- 
ian’s assurance was gone. He rather humbly 
inquired the cost of lodging and breakfast for 
himself and Amos and stabling for the horse 
and was glad to close the contract at $1.50. 

It was midnight when he at last found his bed. 
Mr. Perry’s hotel ws really only a poorly pa- 


144 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

tronized boarding bouse, but it gave Morey a 
chance to get his clothes off and to crawl into a 
bed in which, though it was poor enough, he 
could straighten out his tired legs. Amos slept 
on a cot outside of Morey’s door. Nor did the 
boys have the luxury of late hours. They were 
turned out promptly at the sound of a cracked 
bell at six o’clock. At seven o’clock, having 
breakfasted on a few thin slices of very fat ba- 
con and one egg apiece, the refreshed wan- 
derers set forth. Washington, their Mecca, was 
but eighteen miles away. 


CHAPTER Xin 


ARRIVAL. AT FORT MEYER. 

The day was just the kind to put vigor and en- 
thusiasm into one. Old Betty ambled along, 
reasonably frisky after a night’s rest, and the 
country began to show signs of thickening pop- 
ulation. Amos began to get a little nervous. 

‘‘How much money yo’ got now Marse Mo- 
rey?” he inquired at last, hesitatingly. 

“Oh, ’bout two dollars.” 

‘ ‘ How long dat ’gwine keep us when we git to 
Wash ’ton?” 

“Quit your worryin’, Amos. I’ll look after 
you. I’ll see that you don’t go hungry.” 

“How yo’ gwine do dat? I ain’t got no mo’ 
money.” 

“Well in a pinch, I’m going to sell Betty and 
the surrey.” 

The colored boy shook his head. 

“Yo’ don’ dast sell Betty. Yo’ ma’ll skin yo’ 
ef yo’ sell de ole hoss. Sides, who gwine buy 
dis ole trap? Dat hoss ain’t wutf— ” 

“Didn’t she carry us all the way here?” 


145 


146 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


‘‘She sho’ly did, but she cain’t carry us back. 
Dat boss ready fo’ to quit. She got de heaves.’’ 

“We can work,” moralized Morey. “We can 
make two dollars and a half a day working.” 

“ Yo’ ain’t come hyar to do no wuk, I reckon. 
How come you go to Wash ’ton, Marse Morey?” 

“I’m going to make our fortune, Amos. I’ve 
got a great invention that I ’m going to sell. It 
will give us all the money we can use. Then I’m 
going to buy a banjo for you and we’re going 
hack home on the cars and fix up the place and 
be real farmers and have pigs and cows and 
horses and paint the house and mend the fences 
and hire hands to run the farm.” 

‘ ‘ Look hyar, boy ! Yo ’ losin ’ yo ’ min ’ ! Who 
tol’ yo’ we gwine do all dat? Yo’ done been 
communin’ wid ole crazy man Keyhole.” 

“You wait and see— I’ve got something in my 
bag that is going to do all that and more— when 
I sell it.” 

“We gwine to have money to ride on de steam 
cars?” 

“You just do as I tell you and follow me and 
you’ll not only ride on the steam cars but you’ll 
eat on them. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Eat on ’em ? Who gwine have time to eat on 
de steam cars? Yo’ boun’ to look outen de win- 


Ifk the Clouds for Uncle Sam 147 

dier. I ain’t gwine have no time to eat on de 
cars. Talkin’ bout eatin,” went on Amos, “I 
reckon we conld eat now ef we had de eatin ’s.” 

“We dine in Washington this evening, Amos. 
We won’t bother about it until then. Besides, I 
may not sell my big invention this evening and 
we’ve got to string out our $2.” 

“Bar’s de chicken we done pay two bits fo’.” 

Morey reached down, caught hold of the stif- 
fened fowl and threw it on the roadside. 

“It’s too old to eat, Amos. Don’t you ever get 
enough food? We just had breakfast. I’ll buy 
you a good dinner. Now shut up.” 

“One aigg an’ a piece o’ bacon yo’ couldn’ 
grease a saw wid! Dat ain’t no breakfus’.” 

“Amos!” exclaimed Morey sharply, “If you 
don’t quit bothering me about eating I’ll ask old 
man Keyhole tonight where he got that knife. I 
reckon he knows. ’ ’ 

“Well ef yo’ kin stan’ it, I Mn. But I certain- 
ly is pow’ful hongry.” 

There was a little halt at noon to refresh Bet- 
ty with water and a nibble of grass, during 
which time Morey washed his face and hands in 
the creek by the side of which they had stopped. 
Amos had returned to his old clothes, but Morey 
now arranged a compromise costume for him, 


148 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

discarding the pin, tie and hat and making him 
presentable in his best trousers, shoes and 
white shirt. 

The smoke of Washington was already in 
sight. By four o’clock the suburban farms had 
been reached and Amos saw for the first time 
the environs of a city. The smart, up-to-date 
homes bewildered him and he drank all in with 
wide eyes. They were on the highway that leads 
into Alexandria and Morey was beginning to 
worry. Just what he was to do now that he had 
reached the city he did not know. He could not 
figure out what he and his companion were to 
attempt first. He would cross the Potomac, en- 
ter the city and, he had almost decided, stop at 
the first stable he could find and sell Betty. This 
went pretty hard with him, but it was easier 
than facing the big city with a helpless colored 
boy on his hands and only $1.88 in his pocket. 
With the few dollars that he might get by this 
means they would find a cheap boarding house 
and prepare to look up his friend. Lieutenant 
Purcell. If this required several days or his 
funds ran out while he was engaged in his nego- 
tiations he had one well-defined idea. He would 
find a job for Amos, some simple labor at which 
the boy could make enough to keep both going 
until fortune turned with them. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 149 

Before reacHiig Alexandria the two boys 
found themselves among the country villas of 
the middle-class suburbanites. Then the park- 
like expanse and neatly trimmed hedges of Ar- 
lington Cemetery rose on their right. Intent on 
this pleasing picture, which Amos was slow to 
believe was a cemetery— a soldier’s grave-yard 
—Morey did not for a time notice another insti- 
tution on his left. But, when he did look and saw 
the national colors fluttering from a tall, white 
flagstaff, and the open parade ground and or- 
derly rows of officers’ homes, he knew instinct- 
ively that he had stumbled upon Fort Meyer at 
the front door of the city. His heart leaped. 

Giving Betty a slap with the lines he hastened 
on toward the entrance, through which, in the 
distance, he could already see a thin stream of 
people passing. A moment later the surrey 
reached a sort of rear entrance. Here a soldier 
on guard duty walked slowly back and forth. 

^Hs this Fort Meyer?” Morey asked anxious- 
ly as they passed. 

‘‘That’s what.” 

“May we drive in?” 

The soldier, dropping his gun to “parade 
rest,” shook his head but jerked his thumb down 
the road where people on foot and in carriages 
were entering. 


150 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

‘‘Come to see the airship T’ he remarked. 

“What airship!’’ asked Morey, eagerly. 

“1 reckon you’re in time,” said the soldier 
smiling. “Always in time for them boys. They 
fuss around all day and then tell you at dark 
that it’s too windy. But I reckon they ’ll go up 
today,” he added, glancing skyward. 

“What airship is it!” persisted Morey, lean- 
ing half out of the vehicle. 

“They ain’t but one fur’s the army is con- 
cerned,” laughed the soldier, shouldering his 
gun again— “Wright Brothers. Hustle along 
and make a bluff. Maybe they’ll let old Dobbin 
in.” 

“Is Lieutenant Purcell here!” continued Mo- 
rey, much excited. 

“If he ain’t gone to town, he is,” was the 
answer. “He ought to be here. That’s his 
business. He’s the boss of the job.” 

A few minutes later Morey and Amos were in 
the line of spectators making their way toward 
the reservation parade grounds. But Betty 
could go only within the limits of the fort, where 
Morey turned her over to Amos with orders to 
await his return. Then he hurried after the 
crowd. Undoubtedly it was a gala day. Hun- 
dreds of fashionably dressed women and 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 151 

smartly costumed men were defying the dust of 
the paths leading to the wide parade grounds 
and officers with gold, red and yellow facings on 
their uniforms were hurrying by in mule-drawn 
military busses. 

Near what seemed to be a sort of club-house a 
group of soldiers stood idly. On the gallery, a 
number of guests were collected in animated 
groups. While Morey was debating whether to 
make his way thither before seeking the parade 
ground where, he had already learned, Orville 
Wright was to give an exhibition test of his 
wonderful aeroplane, there was the sharp blast 
of a bugle and the clatter of horses’ feet. An 
open carriage dashed by with three men in it, 
preceded by a bunch of galloping cavalrymen. 
Hats flew off in all directions and a few of the 
spectators cheered. 

It was Morey’s first view of a President of the 
United States. Throwing his own hat into the 
air he lit out on a run after the swiftly moving 
carriage, and then, suddenly noticing that there 
were no other boys present and that no one else 
was excited in just the same manner, he calmed 
down and smiled. 

‘‘Where’s the airship?” asked the boy, seeing 
that the President was bound first for the club- 


152 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

house, but figuring that he would proceed to the 
testing grounds. 

The smart young soldier to whom Morey had 
addressed his remark said: 

‘‘The high white tent is where the big bugs 
’ll be. You keep away from that or they’ll 
hustle you. Them secret service ducks got to 
make a flash. They won’t let you in a mile o’ 
the President. The airship stable is the wooden 
house between the tent and them barracks. An’ 
you keep your eye peeled. They ain’t anxious 
to have kids around.” 

Morey had no trouble. He was frequently 
told to move on, but this did not bother him. 
Long before the President and the other impor- 
tant guests had arrived at the tent of honor the 
boy was a part of the group before the airship 
house. He forgot Amos, Betty and even Lieu- 
tenant Purcell. Pushing through the crowd he 
kept always in front, and, whenever it became 
necessary to clear out the interfering spec- 
tators, Morey was always the first one shoved 
aside. 

In the intervals he saw the mysterious ma- 
chine, drank in its details, watched all the fasci- 
nating work of preparation, gazed in open- 
mouthed wonder on the wizard who was to dem- 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 153 

onstrate the wonders of the fragile craft and, 
when he conld, stole nearer to the magic appar- 
atus. When the tooting band marched across 
the worn and dusty expanse of the parade 
ground, instead of rushing away with the crowd 
to welcome the Chief Magistrate and the other 
distinguished guests, Morey took advantage of 
the laxity of the guards to steal up to the shed 
itself. 

On a box sat two men, one of them the cele- 
brated aviator whom Morey had already seen 
inspecting the track, and the other a military 
man. A workman had already sung out ‘ ‘ Skid- 
doo, kid!’’ when a familiar voice stopped the 
lad. Morey recognized at a glance Lieutenant 
Purcell, hot of face, black of hands and in his 
shirt sleeves, but the soldier in spite of all. 

‘‘Get out!” exclaimed Mr. Wright. 

“One moment!” interrupted the officer, lay- 
ing his hand on the aviator’s arm and whisper- 
ing to him ; ‘ ‘ Come here, ’ ’ he added, motioning 
to Morey. 

“This is Morey, isn’t it?” he smiled, extend- 
ing his soiled hand. “I’m awfully glad to see 
you. Did you get the rod and my note? And 
what are you doing here? Excursion?” 

“I drove here,” responded Morey, a little 


154 


The Aero'plane Boys Series 


abashed, ‘‘and I came— I reckon— I came to 
find you. ’ ^ 

“To see me? Well, that’s good of you. Are 
you alone?” 

“Amos is with me,” laughed Morey. “Your 
friend, the colored boy. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I remember,” laughed the officer. “I 
hope he is well.” 

“Well and hungry,” answered Morey. And 
then he blushed. 

“You came to see me?” went on the officer. 
‘ ‘ Then I hope, as soon as I am through with our 
afternoon’s work, to see you at my quarters. 
Ask any one for my house. Come for dinner 
and bring Amos. I must make my peace with 
the boy.” And he laughed again. 

“Did you ever see an aeroplane before?” in- 
quired Mr. Wright politely, as if feeling that he 
had to say something. 

“I was around Mr. Curtiss’ shop a good deal 
last month,” explained Morey, “and I’ve done 
some gliding myself.” 

“Oh I see,” interrupted Lieutenant Purcell. 
“Then you are interested.” 

“I certainly am,” said Morey. “That’s why 
I came here to see you. I want to consult you 
about an idea I have— it was my father’s.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


155 


Mr. Wright smiled. 

‘‘TheyVe all got it,’^ he remarked. 

‘‘They haven T all got this/^ replied Morey 
abruptly. “Even you haven’t got it. But I 
think you will have it, some day.” 

Both men looked at him questioningly. 

“Well,” answered Mr. Wright with a laugh, 
‘ ‘ we try a new idea every day. Perhaps yours 
is the one we are after.” 

As the two men heard the sound of a bugle 
they sprang to their feet. 

“Can I help you launch her?” asked Morey 
anxiously. 

Mr. Wright laughed again. 

“Why not?” he answered. “If you have 
ideas about these machines you certainly will 
beat these clumsy soldiers. ’ ’ 

“Take otf your coat, Morey,” remarked the 
Lieutenant, ‘ ‘ and get busy. Then, when we are 
through, we’ll see about your idea.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


A SCKEW LOOSE. 

Morey, elated over the great privilege 
granted him, lost no time in taking advantage 
of it. While Mr. Wright, Lieutenant Purcell 
and the experienced workmen who were to assist 
in launching the aeroplane were hurrying the 
last preparations, he crowded close to the craft. 
It was beautiful in its fragile symmetry and 
Morey hung over it as an artist might examine a 
picture. An attendant was pouring in gasoline 
and Mr. Wright was intently watching him 
when a middle-aged military man entered the 
shed. 

‘^Everything all right?’’ he exclaimed in a 
full deep voice. 

“So far as we know,” answered Mr. Wright, 
smiling. ‘ ‘ But that is what we never know ex- 
actly. If I had a guarantee that it was, I 
wouldn’t hesitate to go up a thousand feet.” 

As he said this he shook hands with the new 
arrival. Lieutenant Purcell promptly saluted 
and exclaimed: “Major Squiers.” 

Morey took another look. This, then, was the 
15f) 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 157 

head of the U. S. Signal Corps— the array au- 
thority on ballooning and air navigation. Morey 
knew that he was looking at the best posted man 
in the country on the subject that so appealed 
to him, and he wondered if he might get the op- 
portunity to lay his father’s plans before such 
an authority. 

Looks like a fine afternoon for the trial,” 
went on the visitor. ‘‘The President is ready. 
You can go when you like. I wish you luck.” 

Just then his eye fell on Morey and he 
frowned. 

“He’s all right,” remarked Mr. Wright. 
“That’s' our new assistant— he isn’t in the 
way. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said the Major— his frown relaxing 
—“you must look out for strangers.” 

“I’ll answer for this young man,” spoke lip 
Lieutenant Purcell. . At the same time he 
stepped to his superior and spoke in a low voice. 

Morey was already lost again in his intent ex- 
amination of the airship. He had never seen 
anything that so interested him. The machines 
at Hammondsport were experimental and 
roughly finished. This white winged, complete 
car appealed to his enthusiasm and he was al- 
ready in a land of dreams. If there had ever 


158 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

been any doubt about bis ambition this meeting 
with the great wizard of the air and this close 
contact with his fairy-like creation would have 
decided Morey’s future. He determined to be- 
come an aviator and the owner of such a craft 
if it took years of effort. 

In the midst of his close inspection of the 
waiting machine the boy started, looked again, 
and then turned to those in charge. The eager 
attendants had just taken their stands ready to 
shoulder the long spruce framework to carry it 
outside the house to the starting track. 

^^Mr. Wright,” whispered Morey, touching 
the great inventor on the arm, ‘‘look here. I 
think a link of your chain drive is bent.” 

Mr. Wright and Lieutenant Purcell sprang 
forward together as Morey laid his finger on 
one of the little steel squares of the right hand 
link belt used to connect one of the propellers 
with the engine. One corner was bent sharply 
upward. The first examination showed that the 
steel link was cracked. Mr. Wright spoke under 
his breath as his helpers crowded about him 
and then ordered the doors closed. The next 
few moments were busy ones. Every one 
sprang to the task of repairing the damage. 
Mr. Wright with a wrench loosened the chain 





m*r Weight Sprang Fobwabd. 




f 

i 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 161 

while others brought punches and a substitute 
link. When the defective bit of steel had been 
removed and a new link put in its place the 
perspiring inventor arose, wiped his forehead, 
and turned to those watching him. He had 
picked up the broken bit of metal. After look- 
ing at it intently and showing it to Lieutenant 
Purcell he turned to Morey. 

‘^How did you happen to see that, my boy?” 

^^Oh, I just noticed it— I thought they ought 
to be perfect, all of them. So I looked ’em all 
over. I knew a bad one might dump you. ’ ’ 

certainly would have been dumped and 
worse. It might have been my last flight. I 
can’t say much except that I thank you. Here,” 
he added, laughing, ‘Hake this as a souvenir.” 
He handed Morey the broken link. “And when- 
ever you see it, just remember that I’d be glad 
to do something for you.” 

A few minutes later the aeroplane was out 
and on the track and as it sailed away to the 
applause of the hundreds watching it only a 
few knew that the country boy already racing 
over the dusty parade ground beneath the hov- 
ering airship had counted for so much in malt- 
ing the experiment possible and successful. It 
was indeed successful, for it was on this mo- 


162 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

mentons day that Mr. Wright demonstrated to 
the Signal Corps and the world that his aero- 
plane could fly forty-five miles an hour. In do- 
ing this the machine was in the air a little over 
an hour. 

As it finally drifted toward the landing place 
after circling the course many times the first 
face that the straining aviator made out was 
Morey’s. And it was Morey’s proud assertion, 
many a time later, that it was of him that Mr. 
Wright asked— 

‘‘Did I do it!” 

In the excitement that followed, Mr. Wright 
and Lieutenant Purcell disappeared. As soon 
as the aircraft was within the shed those gentle- 
men were carried away by Major Squiers to 
meet the President, who had hastened forward 
compliment the nervy aviator. But Morey had 
no thoughts of distinguished guests. With his 
coat off he now helped to carry the aeroplane 
into the house and, with the other workmen, to 
adjust it on its supporting trusses. The at- 
tendants were excited and enthusiastic and they 
worked over the car as if it had been an ex- ^ 
hausted race horse, cleaning the engine, tight- 
ening the bolts holding the wires and looking 
over every truss and brace for possible fracture. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 163 

“Hello there, Morey— I thought we had lost 
you. IVe been looking for you. Why didn’t 
you come and see the President?” 

It was Lieutenant Purcell, looking spick and 
span in his full dress uniform. 

“I didn’t know it was so late,” answered 
Morey. “But I’ve had a fine time.” 

“I think we’ll have to make you a member of 
the corps,” remarked the officer. 

Morey gave a startled look. 

“Me?” he exclaimed. “A member of the 
Signal Corps?” 

“Of course I was joking. But I never saw 
any one who seemed to take so naturally to 
this as you do. ’ ’ 

Morey had donned his coat and was walking 
with the officer toward the barracks. They dis- 
cussed generally the exciting events of the day 
and then Morey returned to the suggestion made 
by his companion. 

“What do you mean by joining the corps?” 

“I was joking,” explained the Lieutenant. 
“Of course you couldn’t. You would have to 
enlist as a soldier. I merely thought of it be- 
cause we are trying to find a few youngsters 
to train in this aeroplane service.” 

“Well,” exclaimed Morey promptly— his 


164 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

eyes glittering— why couldn’t I enlist as a 
soldier?” 

The lieutenant looked at him in surprise. 

‘‘In the first place,” he replied with a smile, 
“I imagine your mother would not consent or 
want you to do it. You are too young.” 

“But what if I had her consent?” 

“You couldn’t afford to do it. Soldiers don’t 
live as you live. You’d have to work.” 

Morey was silent a few moments. Then, 
reaching the clubhouse, he asked Lieutenant 
Purcell if they might not sit down at a table in a 
corner of the wide gallery. In the next ten min- 
utes the hoy frankly told the story of his situa- 
tion. The oflScer listened in surprise, but sym- 
pathetically. Nothing was omitted from the 
boy’s story. 

“I want to dispose of my father’s idea,” Mo- 
rey concluded, ‘ ‘ and I must make arrangements 
to see that my mother is not driven from her 
home by the men she thinks are her best friends. 
But when those things are accomplished I’ve 
got to go to work for a living. I’m no farmer 
and was never meant to be one. If, by joining 
the army, I can enter the signal corps to study 
aviation, I’d like to do it. I mean to do it.” 

His friend took his hand. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 165 

‘‘My boy,” exclaimed Lieutenant Purcell, 
“you certainly have a task ahead of you. I can 
see that you mean to accomplish it. But, you’ll 
need help. I’m going to help you all T can. 
We’ll begin this evening. Major Squiers will 
be at my home for dinner. We’ll begin with 
him so far as your father’s plans are concerned. 
You’ll stay with me tonight, and tomorrow I’ll 
take you into the city and will talk with some 
real estate men I know. Meanwhile, we will 
think no more of your enlistment. You don’t 
understand what it means.” 

“In the signal corps I’d have a chance to be 
taught how to handle an aeroplane, wouldn’t 
I?” 

“Yes,” conceded the lieutenant, “and I think 
you would be our star pupil. But the pay— ” 

“That isn’t it,” interrupted Morey. “I 
wouldn’t have to stay in the corps. If I’m a 
success I could buy out and then—” 

The officer laughed. 

“Don’t you think you have enough to bother 
about before that comes up?” 

“I certainly have,” answered Morey. “But 
I’m looking ahead. Anyway, I’m a thousand 
times grateful to you. I’d like to meet Major 
Squiers and show him what I have. Then I’d 


166 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

better go on into the city and meet you tomor- 
row, if you’ll be good enough?” 

^^You will stay with me tonight. Why not?” 

‘‘I’ve got Amos with me,” answered Morey 
with a knowing smile. 

“We’ll take care of Amos, if he is my 
enemy, ’ ’ laughed the officer. 

Lieutenant Purcell was a bachelor, but his 
quarters were comfortably furnished. He and 
Morey had lingered on the club house veranda 
for some time, talking over Colonel Marshall’s 
mysterious packet while a corporal went in 
quest of Amos and Betty. Soon after the officer 
and his guest reached the former’s house the 
corporal returned with the report that the horse 
and surrey had been found and cared for, but 
that the colored boy could not be found. Morey 
was alarmed. He proposed an immediate per- 
sonal search ; but at that moment the telephone 
rang. 

After talking for some minutes over the tele- 
phone the lieutenant, with much laughing, hung 
up the receiver. 

“He’s found,” he explained, roaring with 
amusement. “ He ’s in the guard house. ’ ’ 

Morey sprang up in alarm. 

“Yes,” went on his host, “but they are going 
to bring him here.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 167 

the guard house!” exclaimed Morey. 

‘‘The secret service men arrested him early 
this afternoon. He was found prowling about 
in the rear of the President’s tent with a rock 
tied up in a red handkerchief.” 

“Why, that was for you,” explained Morey 
nervously, but laughing in spite of himself. 
“He’s carried that all the way to Washington 
to get even with you for ducking him.” 

“That’s what he finally confessed,” roared 
Lieutenant Purcell again. “They’ve just had 
him before Captain Bryant, the officer of the 
day. When he told who he was and who he was 
with. Captain Bryant fortunately recalled that 
you were my guest— I had been telling him 
about you. So, concluding that Amos and I 
could settle our own feud, they are bringing him 
here to turn him over to us.” 

Amos’ armed escort arrived at that moment. 
When Morey and his host stepped out on the 
piazza two grinning soldiers and a very much 
alarmed colored boy stood before them. One of 
the guards held in his hand the incriminating 
rock, still concealed in its anarchistic covering. 
The colored boy burst into tears at sight of Mo- 
rey and sank on his knees. 

“I ain’t done no hahm, Mr. Soldier. I don’ 


168 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

mean hahm to no one,’’ blubbered Amos, “I’s 
jes’ lookin’ ’bout.” 

Lieutenant Purcell took the weighty weapon 
and dismissed the soldiers. 

‘‘Amos,” he said, as severely as he could, 
“what’s the meaning of this rock? Why are 
you carrying it with you?” 

“Deed, Mr. Soldier, I’s keepin’ dat kaze I’s 
’feared o’ robbers.” 

“Do you want it again?” 

“No, sah, Mr. Soldier, no, sah.” 

“They say over at the jail that you said it 
was for me ; that you wanted to break my head 
with it?” 

“Me?” whimpered Amos. “No, sah, Mr. 
Soldier. Dey’s story-tellers. ’Deed dey is. 
Please, Marse Morey,” he wailed, “don’ let 
’em bring me to de jail agin. I ain’t mad at no 
one, ’bout nothin’. Please, Mr. Soldier!” 

Lieutenant Purcell and Morey could no 
longer restrain their laughter. Amos was for- 
given, assured that he had already been pun- 
ished for his desperate resolve and turned over 
to Lieutenant Purcell’s domestics for supper 
and lodging. 


CHAPTEE XV 


TWO IRONS IN THE FIRE. 

When Major Squiers arrived he greeted Mo- 
rey cordially. 

‘^Lieutenant Purcell and Mr. Wright, be- 
tween them, have given me a most flattering ac- 
count of you, my son. I wish we had a few such 
hoys in the corps.” 

“I’m anxious to enlist,” Morey exclaimed at 
once. 

This was Lieutenant Purcell’s chance. He 
was not slow to express his own views in op- 
position to Morey’s desires. But, perhaps to 
his surprise. Major Squiers did not agree with 
him. 

“The science of air navigation,” the elder 
officer insisted, “is yet in its infancy. In the 
nature of things the army is intensely inter- 
ested in the development of both dirigible bal- 
loons and areoplanes. In some respects I think 
the study of this problem is as important as the 
solution of new naval problems. As a means 
of offense and defense the army is compelled to 


169 


170 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

keep abreast if it does not lead in these experi- 
ments. And we mean to do it. Bnt, for the 
greatest success, we must have brains. We 
must have just the intelligence that this young 
man possesses. Naturally, those who are to 
assist us, should be under military direction and 
control; they should be soldiers. And they 
must begin in the ranks. But I know of no de- 
partment in the service where promotion is so 
sure and certain. Nor do I know of any other 
opportunity for a young man to get a technical 
education at so little cost to himself. Instead 
of dissuading the boy, I think he should be en- 
couraged.’^ 

‘‘There, you see,” exclaimed Morey turning 
jubilantly to Lieutenant Purcell, “isn’t that 
what I said? Will you enlist me?” he asked 
eagerly facing Major Squiers again. 

“You’ll have to obtain your parent’s con- 
sent. If you can, I’ll be glad to do so. And I’ll 
guarantee to make an aviator out of you in a 
mighty short time.” 

Until dinner was over nothing was said about 
Colonel Marshall’s secret. Lieutenant Purcell 
had not yet seen the packet. But, with a few 
words of explanation from the younger officer, 
Morey produced the precious package from his 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 171 

inside coat pocket. The two military experts 
immediately adjourned to the library and began 
an investigation. Morey was a little surprised 
and disappointed that there was no outburst of 
astonishment. As they proceeded slowly 
through the faded pages, talking to each other 
in low tones from time to time, he became ner- 
vous. After all, what if his father’s idea meant 
nothing at all? What if their land was worth 
no more than Judge Lomax said? Enlisting 
in the Signal Corps would not help him out of 
his predicament. In fact, it would be a selfish 
abandonment of his mother 

When Major Squiers had at last finished the 
long manuscript, which Morey himself had not 
attempted to read or understand, he lit a cigar 
and waited for the younger officer to finish his 
examination. Again they spoke together. It 
was in a low tone and Morey refrained from 
listening. Lieutenant Purcell made a calcula- 
tion and shook his head. Morey’s heart sank. 

At that, the elder officer motioned to the boy 
to approach. 

‘‘My son,” he began, “I assume that you are 
willing to let me take this matter—I mean these 
papers.” 

“Certainly,” answered Morey. “I have no 


172 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

idea whether they are of value, hut if you will 
be good enough to look into them, I shall be very 
gTateful. ’ ’ 

‘‘You are quite sure no one has seen themT’ 

“Other than my father, no one. I have not 
even tried to read them myself. ’ ’ 

Lieutenant Purcell glanced at his superior 
officer. 

“He has an idea that may mean a great 
deal,’’ said Major Squiers. “In carrying out 
his theory of turning liquid hydrogen into free 
gas again he has also suggested an apparatus 
that may solve a difficult problem. AVe won’t 
try to go into it technically, my son, but I want 
to show these drawings to the department. Will 
you trust them to me ?’ ’ 

Overjoyed, Morey gave ready acquiescence. 
Then he exclaimed : 

“Do you think I could have his machine pat- 
ented?” 

Major Squiers laughed and shook his head. 

“My son,” he explained, “that apparatus is 
one of the missing links in the theory of carry- 
ing liquid hydrogen in balloons. The govern- 
ment of every progressive nation is now search- 
ing for it. If we decide that your father’s plans 
are practicable I will undertake to say that the 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 173 

War Department will buy them outright. But 
they will never be patented. It will be an aero- 
nautical secret to be guarded jealously from the 
rest of the world. Are you prepared to sell 
them outright!” 

Morey sprang up radiant. He took the loose 
sheets from the table, put them tremblingly in 
order and placed them in Major Squier’s hands. 

You are to do with them whatever you think 
best. I have no suggestions to make, and no 
conditions. ’ ’ 

When Major Squiers had gone, Morey, en- 
thusiastic as a child, laid his arm on Lieutenant 
Purcell’s shoulders. 

‘‘Lieutenant,” said the boy, “why are you so 
good to me!” 

The young officer grew suddenly sober, was 
silent a moment, and then said: 

“Because I can see how hard you are work- 
ing to make a good man out of a very foolish 
boy.” 

That was a new thought for Morey. Hurt by 
it at first, he cogitated over it a long time before 
going to sleep that night. At last, lying in his 
bed, he smiled. “Wasn’t I the limit!” he said 
to himself. “Buying a four hundred dollar en- 
gine on a capital of seventy-five cents!” 


174 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


Lieutenant Purcell’s official duties demanded 
his attention until noon the next day. But, after ' 
luncheon, it was arranged that he and Morey I 
were to go into the city in an electric car and j 
open up negotiations as to selling his mother’s 
land or borrowing money on it. Morey saw at , 
once that the negotiations under way would be 
extended over several days. He had no desire 
to force himself upon his new friend’s hospi- 
tality and he had found it impossible to tell his 
host that he had but $1.88 in funds. After puz- 
zling over the matter some time he decided to 
take advantage of his unoccupied morning to 
dispose of Betty. He would thus be beyond the ; 
necessity of borrowing funds to cover his and \ 
Amos’ expenses for a short time. ] 

Amos had not wandered far from the lieuten- j 
ant’s quarters. Fear of the guard house kept 
him close to the kitchen. Calling the black boy, 
Morey visited the military barn, secured Betty, ; 
gave the enlisted hostler a quarter for his good : 
nature, and drove out of the reservation. 

When Morey turned old Betty’s head to the ' 
west, Amos for the first time showed signs of 
life. 


‘^Da’s right, Marse Morey, 
home. Dis no place fo’ we all.” 


Le’s go back 


5 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 175 

^‘Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Amos! 
It’s a lucky thing they didn’t keep you in jail.” 

The black boy shook his head and then as the 
reservation was gradually left behind he began 
to show boldness. 

‘^Ef dem soldiers did’n have no guns I reckon 
I’d show ’em.” 

‘‘Look here, you rascal, you were scared to 
pieces. Don’t get so brave. We’re going back 
again.” 

“We gwine back to dat soldier place?” 

“We certainly are, and if I hear any more 
bragging out of you I’ll tell the soldiers.” 

Amos shrank perceptibly. 

“Dat soldier man ’suited me.” 

“You’d better forget it,” remarked Morey 
curtly. “I’ve had to forget several things in 
the past few days.” 

As soon as he had passed beyond the more 
pretentious country places Morey turned into 
a cross road, and at the first thrifty-looking 
farmhouse he pulled up. In fifteen minutes the 
faithful old Betty had been sold for $30, surrey 
thrown in, and Morey and Amos were on their 
way back to the fort, toiling and sweating be- 
neath their bag and bundles. 


176 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

‘‘How come yo’ did^n leab dese in the barn?’’ 
panted Amos. 

“Because,” explained Morey, “since Lieu- 
tenant Purcell has insulted you I thought you 
wouldn’t want to sleep and eat in his house. We 
are going in to Washington.” 

“He did’n ’suit me ’bout eatin’. I had roas’ 
beef las’ night,” Amos retorted, smacking his 
lips. “I ain’t fussin’ ’bout stayin’ dar.” 

Morey was in no mood for further discussion. 
When he reached the trolley line he boarded a 
car and a few minutes later had crossed the 
river and was in Georgetown. Keeping a vigi- 
lant lookout he finally discovered, as the car 
crossed Jefferson street, in the vicinity of a 
river basin and a maze of railroad tracks, a 
cheap hotel. As soon as he could stop the car he 
made his way back. He could get two rooms at 
the rate of fifty cents each a day, without meals. 
A bargain was struck and the boys took posses- 
sion of adjoining apartments. It was a hotel for 
railroad and dock laborers. Neither rooms nor 
surroundings were very savory, but they were 
reasonably clean. 

Amos was in somewhat of a panic when he 
learned that he was to be left here until night. 

^‘Whar’ I gwine to eat?” was his first ques- 
tion. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 


177 


^‘Amos,’^ said Morey with a laugh, **you 
don’t appreciate your good luck. See that bed? 
It has sheets on it. You haven’t had sheets in 
years.” 

‘^No, sah. I don’ want ’em. Dey ain’ gwine 
keep me wahm.” 

‘^And this apartment is yours. I don’t know 
how long we’ll be here. But make yourself at 
home.” He took out of his pocket four silver 
quarters. ‘‘I’ve paid for your room. Down near 
the dock you’ll find places to eat— fried fish and 
pork and bread and coffee.” 

“How much dat gwine cos’ me?” exclaimed 
Amos, a grin on his usually somber face. 

Morey took up a quarter. 

“Never,” he said with a frown, “never, so 
long as I am paying your bills, spend more than 
two bits for a meal.” 

“No, sah,” responded the black boy. “Ah 
knows dat— two bits.” 

“And now,” said Morey, “you can eat and 
sleep until I come back. And don’t get lost. 
Be here by six o’clock or I’ll send the police 
after you.” 

Morey still had time for his toilet. Unpack- 
ing his bag he got out fresh linen and while 
Amos brushed his clothes and shoes he took as 


178 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

much of a bath as he could get. This done, he 
locked their rooms, took Amos to a drug store, 
treated the happy black hoy to an ice cream 
soda, started him back toward the “Basin 
House, ’ ’ their hotel, and then hoarded a car for 
Fort Meyer. 

There was a vigorous protest when he ex- 
plained that he had removed Amos and their 
baggage to a hotel. 

“But how about the horse T’ asked Lieuten- 
ant Purcell. 

The facts had to come out. Once started, I 
Morey concealed nothing. ’ 

The officer laughed. ] 

‘ ‘ Morey, ’ ’ he exclaimed, ‘ ‘ you ’ll certainly win j 

out. I don’t blame you. You were more than j 
welcome here, but I suppose I would feel the 
same way that you do. However, if you run 
out of funds before something turns up, re- 
member this— I accepted your hospitality as to j 
the trout stream.” 

Morey laughed in turn. 

“That was in my foolish days. We didn’t 
own any more of that trout creek that you did.” 

Within an hour after luncheon the officer and ] 
Morey were in the city and in a well-known real j 
estate and loan office. A clerk passed them on 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 179 

to Lieutenant Purcell’s friend, who gave Mo- 
rey’s long story his personal attention. The 
manager began shaking his head at once. But, 
when Morey mentioned Major Carey and the 
Barber Bank, he took a new attitude. Turning 
to his desk he looked in an index and then, ex- 
cusing himself, went into the outer office and 
after some minutes returned with several docu- 
ments. 

‘ ‘ Do you know the Hargrave farm of one hun- 
dred and twenty acres,” he asked, calling Mo- 
rey over to his desk. 

don’t know how many acres he had,” an- 
swered Morey, ‘‘but Mr. Hargrave used to 
live next to our com land. Don’t any one live 
there now?” 

The manager turned to Lieutenant Purcell. 

“The old Kichmond Trust Company made a 
good many peculiar loans out there in Rappa- 
hannock County. It loaned this man Appleton, 
who had a tobacco piece, five thousand dollars 
on one hundred and twenty acres. It sold the 
mortgage to a client of ours and he had to fore- 
close. I thought I recalled the transaction when 
your friend mentioned the Barber Bank and 
this man Carey. Carey bought the land less 


180 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

than a year ago and paid forty dollars an acre 
for it.’’ 

These business details confused Morey. 

Looks as if Major Carey was out for some- 
thing soft,” commented Lieutenant Purcell. 

‘‘Our land’s worth as much as the Appleton 
place,” exclaimed Morey, who had grasped that 
much of the situation. 

“Leave me your address,” suggested the 
manager. “I’ll send a man out there on a quiet 
investigation. These country banks are great 
boosters— for themselves. You’ll hear from me 
in a few days. It isn’t improbable that I can 
be of help to you.” 


CHAPTEE XVI 

THE SIGNAL CORPS CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS. 

Before leaving the center of the city Lieu- 
tenant Purcell directed Morey to several cheap 
but sufficiently good restaurants. Then the two 
friends spent several hours in sight-seeing, and 
when they separated, Morey went directly to 
his room to write to his mother at lasL The 
letter, although a long one, told only a part of 
Morey’s story. As yet he made no mention of 
the money they owed Major Carey. It was an 
affectionate but positive letter leaving no doubt 
as to Morey’s intentions. This letter led up 
to a second and more important one. 

The following day, having journeyed out to 
Fort Meyer and secured the proper form, Mo- 
rey wrote again to his mother. In this letter he 
asked her consent to his joining the Signal 
Corps, This communication was most adroitly 
worded. There was in it no reference to the 
army, and the average person who read it 
would imagine that the S. Signal Corps” 
was a sort of technical school, entrance into 
which was secured only by a favored few. 


181 


182 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

Morey waited four days for his mother’s re- 
ply. During that time he heard nothing from 
Major Squiers or from the real estate firm, and 
his expenses were already nearly twelve dollars. 
Then he called at the real estate office. The 
manager remembered him, was profuse in his 
apologies, but had been too busy to give the 
matter consideration. He would attempt to do 
so at once. Morey retired somewhat crestfallen. 
He had imagined that his business was to re- 
ceive immediate attention. Not wishing to 
bother Lieutenant Purcell he went alone to the 
War Department and asked to see Major 
Squiers. After much delay he was admitted. 

Major Squiers greeted him cordially but with 
every sign of having no time to lose. 

just wanted to ask you about the papers?” 
Morey explained at once. 

“Oh, yes,” responded the military executive. 
“They have been submitted to the proper offi- 
cials. When reports are made on them I will 
take the matter up with the Secretary of War. 
You musn’t be impatient, my son. We are all 
the victims of red tape here in Washington.” 

“Have you any idea when I shall know?” 

“Not the slightest— weeks perhaps; maybe 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 183 

montlis. You had better go home in the mean- 
time. ’ ’ 

‘‘I should say not/’ responded Morey de- 
cisively. Don’t you remember what you told 
me I could do? I can’t afford to loaf, either 
here or at home. I want to enlist.” 

‘‘I remember,” laughed Major Squiers. 
^‘Have you your mother’s formal consent?” 

‘‘I expect to have it in a day or so.” 

Major Squiers thought a moment. Then he 
turned to his desk and wrote a note. 

‘‘Why not?” he asked as he turned around 
and handed the envelope to Morey. “Here is a 
note to Lieutenant Purcell with a suggestion. 
If you are in the service I can the more easUy 
keep track of you. The lieutenant is leaving in 
a few days for the experiment station. I have 
suggested that if your mother’s consent arrives 
in time and you are formally enrolled before he 
leaves, he should take you with him.” 

“WTiere is the experiment station,” asked 
Morey, boyishly. 

The officer smiled. 

“That is a military secret, my son.” 

Then Morey smiled. 

After expressing his gratitude Morey with- 
drew. It pleased him to think that he knew 


184 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

where the experiment station was. The pres- 
ence of Lieutenant Purcell at Linden, only 
twenty miles from his home was explained. If 
things worked out all right, Morey figured he 
would be on his way there in a few days. There, 
with the possible chance of seeing his mother 
occasionally, he would study the operation of 
aeroplanes and would wait for some word as 
to his business affairs. 

The next morning his mother’s letter came. 
It was a pathetic composition, protesting, ap- 
pealing and reproaching. And, although she 
ordered Morey to return home at once she also 
gave her consent that he might join the Signal 
Corps. The letter contained also a message 
from Amos’ father. The substance of this was 
that a ‘^hiding” awaited the colored boy. 

Within an hour Morey had consulted with 
Lieutenant Purcell. Then he made another call 
at the real estate office. The manager, Morey 
thought, showed uncalled for impatience. It 
had not yet been convenient, it seemed, to look 
into the Marshall matter. The disappointed 
lad was glad to make his escape. But he left 
his new address: ‘‘Care Lieut. Fred Purcell, U. 
S. Signal Corps.” 

By noon he and Amos had packed up their be- 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 185 

longings, eaten luncheon at one of Amos’ fav- 
orite places down near the Basin,” and the 
adventurers were off for Fort Meyer. Morey 
was about to become a soldier. Amos following 
blindly in Morey’s footsteps, supposed with 
his own peculiar logic that the white boy’s en- 
listment included him. In the delusion that he, 
too, was about to become a soldier and don a 
cap and blue clothes he was happy. 

Lieutenant Purcell had orders to return to 
Linden, or Green Springs, the real location of 
the encampment, at noon of the following day. 
And at his suggestion Morey was not formally 
enlisted until the next morning. All embar- 
rassment as to Amos was soon relieved. Morey 
had money enough to send the black boy home 
by train. The officer, however, offered to attach 
. Amos to himself as a personal servant. 

‘‘But he thinks he is to be a soldier,” said 
Morey. 

! “That’s all right,” suggested the lieutenant, 
“I’ll scare up an old uniform and we’ll rig him 
' out in it. It will satisfy him and do no one 
ij any harm.” 

I This was done that evening. When the reser- 
i vation ambulance started for Washington and 
I the train at noon the next day, among the other 


186 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

corps privates to be transferred to Green 
Springs under Sergeant Burns, was Morey, in 
a stiff new uniform, and with a soldier ^s kit. 
Leiutenant Purcell preceded the detachment in 
a ’bus and Amos went with him— in reality as 
the lieutenant’s personal servant, but so far as 
the black boy knew, as much of a soldier as any 
in the squad. Three hours later, to Amos’ con- 
sternation, the party alighted in the village of 
Linden. The camp wagon was waiting and long 
before night Lieutenant Purcell and his men 
were at Green Springs. 

Morey was assigned to a tent with three other 
privates, and Amos— protesting but finally 
obeying Morey’s orders— was located in Lieu- 
tenant Purcell’s cook tent with another darkey. 
Amos had expected to shoulder a gun, and had 
visions of at once stealing away to exhibit him- 
self in Lee’s Court House. But he found the 
duty of waiting on Lieutenant Purcell’s table 
more pressing. 

Even a quick examination satisfied Morey 
that he had made no mistake. The camp and 
its surroundings seemed a fairy land to him. 
High up on the slope of the Blue Mountains, 
well concealed behind a barrier of mountain ash 
trees, lay a plateau. This plateau led into a 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 187 

broad rift in the mountain. Deep in this val- 
ley, next the spring that gave the place its name, 
was the camp. A score of tents surrounding a 
square, housed the soldiers and officers selected 
by the War Department to be trained in the use 
of the aeroplane. Just below the camp and 
fronting a slope leading to the plateau outside 
were two large tents. In one of these were two 
aeroplanes— Wright machines— and in the other 
was a shop and quarters for two civilian repre- 
sentatives of the airship manufacturers. 

Fascinated by the surroundings and the daily 
routine of the work Morey threw himself en- 
thusiastically into the experiments. He was 
young, full of ideas and more than willing. He 
was assigned to the shop division and in three 
weeks he was as well informed on the theory and 
construction of an aeroplane as the experts 
themselves. So intent was he upon his duties 
that he seemed to have no thought for any thing 
else. But no day went by in which he did not 
inquire of his superior officer whether any mes- 
sage had come for him from Major Squiers or 
the real estate firm. But his frequent and keen 
disappointment in this hope always passed 
away in the fervor with which he executed his 
tasks. The men were not allowed to send mes- 


188 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

sages from the camp. Nor were they permitted 
to visit Linden unless accompanied by an officer. 

Lieutenant Purcell had tried several men in 
short flights, always making longer ones him- 
self, generally about sundown. Morey now had 
his first experience in the machine. Corporal 
Appleton was the favored pupil. One evening 
early in July, Lieutenant Purcell and Corporal 
Appleton were preparing for a trial flight. The 
car was on the track, the lieutenant was in place 
at the levers and the corporal was just mount- 
ing alongside his superior when the latter looked 
up, sprang from the car and ordered Appleton 
away and into custody. The soldier was partly 
intoxicated. 

Without a spoken word Lieutenant Purcell 
turned toward Morey and nodded his head. In 
another moment the young Virginian was by the 
officer’s side, the aeroplane had been released 
and the craft was swirling forward and upward. 
Almost before Morey could catch his breath the 
world seemed dropping from beneath him. 
There was a long, slanting curve and Morey’s 
heart almost stopped beating. He closed his 
eyes and gripped the fragile frame. A cold 
sweat covered his body. Again the car swayed. 
The boy, almost dizzy with fear, gasped and 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 189 

bit his lips. The whirr of the propellers filled 
the air. Then, suddenly, came the sense of 
smoothness, the absence of vibration, the feel- 
ing that without jar or quiver the delicate ve- 
hicle was floating. 

At last Morey opened his eyes. He closed 
them quickly. So far beneath them that the 
sense of height was almost sickening, the plain 
and forest were rushing by with the speed of 
an express. But he began to reason. He had 
at last achieved a step in his ambition. With 
all the grit he had he pulled himself together. 
Again he opened his eyes— this time to keep 
them open His companion was not afraid. 
Why should he be? 

“How is she doing?” he exclaimed suddenly, 
surprised at his own calmness. 

‘ ‘ Beautifully. Watch me ! ” 

And the boy did. Far out over the forest in 
the gathering twilight the aeroplane flew like a 
disc. Then the aviator turned to the south. At 
this long swoop the sickening depression came 
again into Morey’s breast, but only for a mo- 
ment. 

“It’s this or nothing, for me,” he said to 
himself and with a last effort he put aside his 
fear. 


190 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

‘‘Look ahead, exclaimed Lieutenant Purcell 
suddenly. ‘ ‘ See something white I ’ ’ 

“Looks like a building.’^ 

“Top of the courthouse in your village.’’ 

Five miles toward the village the aeroplane 
flew and then Lieutenant Purcell turned once 
more. Just at dusk the airship sank gently to 
the earth in front of the camp. Amos grabbed 
Morey as a mother might clasp a lost child. He 
was blubbering and breathless. The black boy 
had chased the aeroplane and was almost ex- 
hausted. 

“Marse Morey,” he panted, “ef yo’ all ebber 
go in that hurricane agin I’s gwine right home 
and tell yo’ ma.” 

Morey had another opportunity the next day. 
Appleton was in disgrace. Morey was given 
his place and in the evening, after another short 
flight with Lieutenant Purcell, he was allowed to 
make a trial flight alone near the ground. In 
the week that followed Morey made daily 
flights— at last over the adjacent forest. His 
skill and confidence grew with every ascent. 
Lieutenant Purcell was not disappointed in his 
pupil. He had already assured the boy of a 
promotion to a sergeancy. Morey’s proud 
satisfaction had only one cloud on it— still no 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 191 

word came from Washington concerning his 
business negotiations. 

On the morning of July 13, Morey was sum- 
moned to headquarters. Lieutenant Purcell 
greeted him with a sober face. 

Morey,’’ he said at once, ‘‘I have a dis- 
agreeable duty to perform. You will remember 
that it was not on my advice that you joined 
the Corps. Yet, I have done all I could to teach 
you what we know. In my judgment you have 
been too apt a pupil. Major Squiers has just 
made a requisition on me for my best operator. 
You are not only my best, but you are practic- 
ally the only one I can trust. ’ ’ 

‘‘I’m glad to hear that, ’ ’ said the boy. ‘ ‘ But 
what makes your duty disagreeable?” 

“Because I must conscientiously recommend 
you to Major Squiers.” 

Morey’s eyes opened in surprise. 

“Isn’t that a compliment?” 

“It is a dangerous job. They are going to 
begin experimenting with explosives and their 
effects when dropped from aeroplanes.” 

“Good!” exclaimed Morey. “Do you mean 
that I’m to have a chance at this?” 

‘ ‘ I must submit your name. But it is exceed- 
ingly hazardous work. You can take or refuse 


192 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

the offer. Appleton is ready to go if you don’t.’^ 

‘‘When do I start was the boy’s only an- 
swer. 

“Whoever I send must be in Arlington, New 
Jersey, tomorrow. You’ll have to start on the 
slow train this evening and leave Washington 
on the six o’clock express in the morning.” 

As Morey grasped his lieutenant’s hand in 
both of his he said: 

“Lieutenant, you’re a brick. You’ve cer- 
tainly done your share in trying to turn a fool- 
ish boy into a good man.” 


CHAPTER XVn 


THE AEROPLANE AS A WAR MACHINE. 

The government had selected an old colonial 
home, sequestered in a bit of forest a few miles 
south of Arlington, as a base for its practical 
aeroplane experiments. It had selected this 
place for two important reasons, The house, 
now almost in ruins, was on a ridge just beyond 
the tidal flats or salt marshes west of New 
York, and it fronted on what had been a plaza. 
This made an admirable starting ground and 
from it there was an uninterrupted hut distant 
view of the sea. From this leafy retreat, well 
otf the main road and only approached over a 
now weed-grown lane, closely guarded, the air- 
ships could emerge in the early dawn or at twi- 
light, sail over the untenanted marshes and re- 
turn, practically without being observed. 

The house, which had an old-fashioned, glass- 
less octagonal observatory on top, was further 
screened from discovery by a new fence. On 
the building itself there had been but few re- 
pairs made. Major Squiers and Lieutenant 
Purcell, when they were there, occupied adjoin- 


193 


194 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

ing rooms on the first floor. No attempt had 
been made to furnish these. The officers prac- 
tically ‘‘camped out’^ in the big, bare rooms. 
On the second floor were a dozen or more sold- 
iers, including three sergeants and a corporal. 
The two men who assisted Mr. Wright at Fort 
Meyer were also here. In the yard in the rear 
was a cook tent. The men ate in another tent 
beneath the trees. 

Beyond the tents, and approached by a path 
running through denser trees and a wilderness 
of weedy vegetation, was the plaza, or outlook, 
on which the long since dead owner had been 
accustomed to sniff the ocean breezes and from 
which, far across the marshy meadows the ocean 
might be seen. 

Into this interesting place Morey was con- 
ducted by Corporal Steele early in the day. Ma- 
jor Squiers was there and in charge. Lieuten- 
ant Purcell was expected in three or four days. 
The boy was turned over at once to Sergeant 
McLean, who took him to the commander’s 
apartment. 

“Since you are now all here,” said Major 
Squiers, turning to the sergeant, after a few 
moment’s talk with Morey, “you may as well 
draw lots for the order in which you are to be 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 

called. We may make a flight at any time. 
Some officials from Washington will arive to- 
morrow or the day after. When they do, we 
must be ready to begin work at once.’^ 

These flights were for the purpose of navi- 
gating, if possible, an aeroplane from the Ar- 
lington ridge, across the marshes, over Staten 
Island and then dropping explosives on a target 
in the Lower Bay, south of Staten Island. This 
target was a condemned man-of-war, which for 
several weeks had been mysteriously anchored 
off the shore. In order not to attract undue 
attention the vessel was manned. But officers 
and men were prepared to abandon the hulk at 
any time on signal. 

The aeroplane shed was a canvas house on 
the garden plaza. By its side was a shop. The 
aeroplane tested at Fort Meyer was installed 
here with a second one on the ground in crates. 
This one had just arrived. The plans of the 
M^ar Department were twofold. Not only were 
various explosives to be tested by being dropped 
from a swiftly flying car, but some of the actual 
conditions of war were to be present. It was 
especially desired to make the experiment cover 
some ground. The distance from the Arlington 
ridge to the Lower Bay was nearly twenty miles. 


196 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

It was believed that if this distance could be 
covered by a machine without descending and a 
safe return accomplished, that some of the ex- 
igencies of actual warfare would have been 
met. 

Morey was sent to the upper floor to install 
himself. While he was picking out a cot he 
was recalled to the commander’s apartment. A 
drawing of lots was to take place to decide the 
order in which the four available operators 
would be called on to serve. 

‘‘First,” explained Major Squiers, “although 
you are all soldiers, not one of whom would 
shirk his duty, the department wants to make 
this fact plain. This work is so new and so 
hazardous that it is to be the policy of the Sec- 
retary of War to call for volunteers in aero- 
planing. In actual warfare it is not impossible 
that weapons of defense will be at once devised 
that will make the work of an aeroplane 
almost a deliberate sacrifice of life. If any one 
of you wishes to wait until the science we are 
developing is more advanced and aviation of 
this sort is attended with less danger, do not 
be ashamed to say so. It wiU not be charged 
against you.” 

Four men smiled. 


In the Clouds for Uncle 8am 197 

‘‘As I anticipated,’’ said Major Sqniers, 
smiling in turn. “All of you are eager Hob- 
sons. ’ ’ 

As a result of the drawing the order was : 

1st. Corporal D. M. Steele, 26 years old, 
Omaha, Nebraska (the dirigible experimental 
station). 

2nd. Private Mortimer Marshall, 18 years 
old. Green Springs’ testing grounds. 

3rd. Sergeant S. A. McLean, 37 years old. 
Fort Meyer. 

4th. P. S. Bloom, 29 years old. Fort Meyer. 

As the men filed out of the room Major' 
Squiers detained Morey a moment. 

“I’m rather glad, my son, you were not first.” 

“But, I’m second,” proudly replied the boy. 
“I’ll show you that Lieutenant Purcell is a good 
teacher.” 

“By the way,” added his superior, “don’t 
believe that your father’s project has been bur- 
ied. It has reached the engineering depart- 
ment. UnoflScially I hear that it has made a 
sensation. That is, it has started a hot dispute. 
That looks good, does’nt it?” 

“It doesn’t look as good to me as this,” said 
Morey, holding up his little square of cardboard 
numbered ‘2.’ “I hope it is of use and is worth 


198 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

something, but I wouldn’t trade my chance here 
for all the money it may bring.” 

‘‘How is that?” inquired Major Squiers, puz- 
zled. 

“Because I want to do something myself.” 

“When your chance comes I’m sure you 
will,” said the elder man very kindly, and he 
patted the boy on the head. 

Before the first flight was made Lieutenant 
Purcell arrived— three days later— and the next 
day a sudden message came that the official 
board was on the proving ground on the south 
shore of Staten Island. There was hurry and 
anxiety but no commotion in the distant New 
Jersey station. At six in the afternoon Cor- 
poral Steele, bareheaded and in his shirt 
sleeves, made a short experimental flight. Ma- 
jor Squiers had left the camp at four o’clock to 
board a waiting tug at Jersey City. At twenty 
minutes past six, after a safe return to the 
plaza, where he took on two cordite bombs 
weighing thirty pounds each, the eager aviator 
was off like a bird over the Jersey flats At half 
past six he had disappeared in the smoke waft- 
ing southward from Jersey City. 

Just after seven o’clock Lieutenant Purcell 
received this message by telephone: 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 199 

‘‘Steele’s flight was admirable but he failed 
in his drop. Both bombs delivered at once and 
too soon. They struck the water and disap- 
peared without exploding. If he returns suc- 
cuessfully and there is time before dark, make 
a second trial. Attempt nothing after dark. 
Take no chances with shipping in the bay.” 

Corporal Steele was on the starting plateau 
at a quarter past seven. The operator was 
chagrined, but not discouraged. His control of 
the machine had been perfect. He at once in- 
sisted that there should be an automatic device 
for releasing the explosive independently of the 
operator’s hands. But, in the midst of his ex- 
planation, Lieutenant Purcell turned to Morey. 
There was at least three quarters of an hour 
of twilight remaining. The aeroplane was 
turned, two new bombs were hastily brought 
and Morey got into the seat. 

His great chance had come at last. Calmly 
and distinctly he gave the word and the car was 
hurled into the still evening air. Taking ad- 
obedient aeroplane to mount upward as it flew 
through the almost breezeless air. Up and up 
he soared until the grey marsh beneath was only 
a haze A thousand feet above the tidewater 
vantage of his start Morey held his forward or 


200 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

horizontal rudder skyward and allowed the 
swamp the young aviator brought himself to a 
horizontal course. Before and beyond him he 
could make out the horizon-bounded sea. In a 
few moments the outlines of Staten Island be- 
came clear in the dusk and then the unmistak- 
able grey target rose out of the water beyond. 

The two bombs had been suspended in little 
net hammocks on each side of the aviator. On 
each was a wire handle. Morey reached into 
his pocket and took out his new knife. Opening 
the largest blade he placed the knife between his 
teeth. Then carefully, while some distance from 
the target vessel, he drew the other bomb from 
its hammock and placed it in his lap. He was 
ready. 

A thousand yards from the anchored marsh 
he settled himself and judged his distance. He 
was counting on some breeze at sea. He could 
feel it gently wafting landward from the north- 
east. His experience at Green Springs had 
taught him every movement of the machine. As 
he drew nearer to the vessel he bore off into the 
breeze as if to pass to one side of the target. 
He seemed about to sail by it on the north when 
with a quick shift of his vertical rudders he 
turned. The aeroplane trembled, seemed to 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 201 

catch itself for a moment and then, with a long, 
graceful curve it headed for the vessel and 
darted downward like a bird. 

There was another rapid movement of the 
horizontal rudders and the darting fall was 
checked. The airship wavered as if to gather 
itself for a new flight. The swiftly beating 
propellers sent the air against the planes and 
the machine began to rise once more. There 
was an instant’s pause. The boy’s hand shot 
forward to cut away the hanging bomb with the 
keen blade. At the same instant Morey’s knees 
opened and the deadly package in his lap slid 
between his legs. Almost at the same moment 
the two bombs crashed upon the steel deck and 
the aeroplane had darted on. 

There was a roar, a flash of fire far beneath, 
and Morey knew that he had made the first suc- 
cessful experiment with the aeroplane as a war 
machine; he had won ^‘in the clouds for Uncle 
Sam.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


SERGEANT MARSHALL OUTWIWi MAJOR CAREY. 

The maneuvers continued with daily flights. 
In a short time Morey was, by common consent, 
conceded to be the foremost in the work. He 
held the record for the most exact work in the 
handling of explosives and had flown the high- 
est. Sergeant McLean made the longest con- 
tinuous flight— the length of Long Island and 
return. 

The promised promotion to a sergeancy came 
at the end of the first week of experimenting. 
In his new stripes the boy had visible proof that 
the ‘‘foolish boy’’ had really made progress in 
his effort to accomplish something. Then, one 
morning came a shock. He received a letter 
from his mother. 

No sooner had Lieutenant Purcell left the 
Green Spring’s camp than Amos disappeared. 
As he was not a soldier, little attention was 
given his departure. Reaching Aspley Place 
after a footsore tramp, the black boy was re- 
ceived with open arms. Even his father, old 


202 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 203 

Marsh Green, agreed to refrain from adminis- 
tering the ‘‘hiding’^ he had promised. As 
Amos related to Morey’s mother the wonders he 
had seen and the exploits of the yet missing 
white hoy his imagination ran riot. Old Don 
Quixote never shone with the glamor of ro- 
mance that the black boy created for Morey. 
Mrs. Marshall was in despair. And other 
things had now arisen that made her son’s ab- 
sence doubly trying. 

Amos had no idea where Morey had gone. 
But Mrs. Marshall’s letter of appeal to her son 
was forwarded to Green Springs in care of 
Lieutenant Purcell and from that place it was 
forwarded to the station at Arlington. When 
Morey read it he was in despair. 

‘‘My dear Morey,” it ran. “How can I say 
what your absence has been to me ! Amos has 
told us all. I am heartbroken that you did not 
return with him. I thought you were in school 
at Washington. He tells me you are a soldier. 
Twice I have written to you in Washington 
and each time my letter has come back. You 
must come to me at once. Mr. Bradner has told 
me all. I cannot understand it, but he says 
we must give up our home; that Major Carey 
and Captain Barber are arranging to get for 


204 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

us a new home in the village. This cannot be 
necessary, but he says I must. It is something 
about money that your father owed. Now they 
say we can no longer live on Aspley Place. Ma- 
jor Carey has been to see me. He says it is 
true ; that some one in Richmond insists on hav- 
ing money that I cannot pay. He has selected 
a little cottage where we must live— but I can- 
not write of it. Won’t you come home and help 
me?” 

The glory of his success in the corps seemed 
very small to Morey then. When he thought 
over what had happened in the last few weeks 
he could only reproach himself with the thought 
that he had deserted his mother. He at once 
sought out Major Squiers. To him he told his 
story. 

^‘May I go home for a few days?” he pleaded. 
‘‘I know now that I did wrong to enlist. But 
IVe got to go home and see what I can do.” 

‘‘I’ll give you leave of absence for a week,” 
answered his superior sympathetically. “If, at 
the end of that time you want more leave let me 
know and I’ll grant it. But you did not do 
wrong. You are going to be a credit to your- 
self and to your mother.” 

“I’m going to Washington,” said Morey 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 205 

tremulously. nothing can be done there I’ll 
go home. With what I know I’ll confront the 
men who are trying to rob us. I’m sure I’m 
enough older now to accomplish something.” 

‘‘You must,” replied Major Squiers, “ for I 
have counted on you in my summer plans. You 
have become valuable to us. Arrange to rejoin 
the corps by the first of August— you cannot 
atford to miss what I have arranged for you.” 

At three o’clock that afternoon the disconso- 
late boy was in Washington on his way home 
on a leave of absence*. Hastening to the office of 
the real estate firm he met the manager just 
leaving for the day. 

“I meant to write to you in the morning,” 
began the busy dealer with unusual condescen- 
sion. “I have a proposition to make to you 
and your mother. Jump in my car ! I’m going 
out for a little ride. We’ll talk it over in the 
automobile.” 

Morey’s heart leaped. 

“I’ll be perfectly frank with you,” said the 
manager, “and what I have to say is based on 
the assumption that you represent your 
mother.” 

“I think you can do that, sir,” replied Morey. 
“She has not authorized me to act for her, but 


*206 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

our necessities are such that I must compel 
her to listen to reason.’’ 

^‘Well,” began the agent, ‘‘we have had a 
man in your part of the country and he has just 
returned. It was not difficult to find that the 
Barber Bank is preparing to secure your land. 
We are like the Barber Bank, in a way. We are 
here to make money where and when we can. 
The land is ample security for the loan you 
ask.” 

“And you’ll let me have it?” exclaimed Mo- 
rey. 

The manager shook his head. 

The lad’s heart sank. 

“What we will do is this: Major Carey 
wants your land, that is plain. I think, too, 
he’ll pay forty dollars an acre for it when he 
sees he has to. My proposition is this: we’ll 
take up your notes— your father’s and your 
mother’s— and, if your mother will make such a 
contract, carry them until we can sell the prop- 
erty. As our profit we will take one-half the 
selling price over the amount we invest. That 
will be something over $14,000. If we sell the 
farm of six hundred acres at forty dollars there 
will be a balance of $10,000 over what we put in 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 207 

the deal. That will mean $5,000 for your mother 
and $5,000 for us.’^ 

Morey finally understood, then he too shook 
his head. 

‘‘I can’t,’’ he said. ‘‘I reckon your otfer is 
fair enough but I can’t let the home farm go. 
That’s what I’m working for. There are one 
hundred and sixty acres around our home that 
I want to keep— that I must save. You know 
the place. There are four hundred and forty 
acres besides this. If you’ll pay those notes 
I’ll undertake to see that my mother gives you 
a deed to all this. ” 

‘^I don’t see that it makes much difference,” 
said the manager. 

‘‘It makes all the difference in the world to 
me. It won’t give us any money hut it will give 
us a home. And I’ll make a living somehow.” 

“I’ll do it. Your friends in the Barber Bank 
are sharks. I like to take a fall out of those 
country wise ones occasionally.” 

“Mr. Tuttle,” said Morey, after a few mo- 
ments, “that’s business and no favor on either 
side. I’m going to ask a personal favor. I’m 
too young to ask it legally but on what you know 
of me will you lend me $100.” 

The manager smiled. 


208 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

‘^Our investment company would not think 
of such a thing. But we are not in the oifice 
just now. Your note wouldn’t be good, but your 
face is.” He reached in his pocket, took out a 
wallet, counted out five twenty-dollar hills and 
then laid on them his personal card, J. D. 
Tuttle. ‘^When you can do so, send it to me. 
Haven’t you any funds?” 

‘‘Enough to get home,” responded Morey, 
“but I’m going to pay a fine with part of that 
and keep out of jail.” 

“A fine? For what?” 

“I bumped old Judge Lomax, in our town, 
on the floor because he said our place wasn’t 
worth twenty dollars an acre.” 

“Whew I” laughed the manager. “I’m glad I 
valued it higher.” 

Arrangements were soon concluded. When 
Morey left for Lee’s Court House in the morn- 
ing an agent of the investment company was 
with him. They reached the little Rappahannock 
County town at about eleven o’clock. One of 
Marshal Robertson’s self-imposed duties was to 
conscientiously attend the arrival of each train. 
The marshal was dutifully on the platform. 

“Do you want me?” asked Morey, hurrying 
up to the guardian of the peace. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 209 

The boy’s natty uniform, his new cap and his 
sergeant’s stripes seemed to overpower the 
town official. 

‘^Fur poundin’ up Jedge Lomax?” he stam- 
mered at last. 

‘‘You can call it that,” laughed Morey, “al- 
though I didn’t.” 

“Fur land’s sakes, Morey, where ha’ ye 
abeen? That’s all settled long ago. I reckon 
your mother must a’ got Major Carey to see 
Jedge Lomax. Anyhow the warrant is with- 
drew.” 

That was what had happened. As soon as 
Mrs. Marshall had heard of the difficulty she 
had hurried to her friends. Captain Barber and 
Major Carey. Through them the disgruntled 
Lomax— who never had been near to dying— had 
been unable to resist feminine appeals, particu- 
larly when Major Carey added his request to 
that of Morey’s mother. 

“Well,” said Morey with decision, “I think 
that is a good thing— for Judge Lomax. I was 
just about to swear out a warrant for his ar- 
rest. I ’ll wait now until I hear more from him. ’ ’ 

The investment company’s representative 
was a young lawyer. Morey’s mother had no 
telephone in her house. So within a few minutes 


210 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

the town livery man had two horses hitched to 
an ancient hack and by noon Morey and the 
agent were at Aspley Place. 

For half an hour Morey was alone with his 
mother in her bed room. In the end she was 
reconciled. Morey did not attempt to make her 
realize all that he had come to know. 

‘‘I’ll never believe it of Major Carey,” she 
kept repeating. 

“That’s all right, mater,” Morey answered 
at last. “Think as you like. But I’m a man 
now. All you have to do is to sign the contract. 
I’ll see that you keep Aspley Place. And, if I 
have good luck. I’ll see that we make our own 
butter again. ’ ’ 

“I’m afraid it isn’t what your father would 
have liked.” 

“Father lived when things were different. 
Everything has changed. I ’m changed. ’ ’ 

By mid-afternoon Morey and the agent were 
in Major Carey’s office. The news of Morey’s 
return had spread quickly. The dignified 
planter-banker was not at his ease. He began 
the interview by mildly censuring the boy for 
his sudden leave-taking. Then he seemed to 
desire to mend matters a little by explaining 
how he had adjusted the trouble with Judge Lo' 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 211 

max. Morey heard him impatiently and then 
came to the point. 

‘‘I suppose you remember what I said to 
you the last time I saw youT’ began Morey. 

‘‘You were not wholly in command of your- 
self/’ replied Major Carey, condescendingly. 

“I told you when I entered your office again 
that I’d he here to settle with you. I’m ready.” 

“To settle with me?” 

“With you, Captain Barber, Mr. Bradner, 
the bank, or any one else that has a claim 
against my mother. ” 

“Morey, what does this mean?” 

“It means that you folks think you own this 
town a;nd all the people in it. You do, too, 
pretty much— except us. Produce your state- 
ment of every cent we owe you. I want the 
notes and have the money to square up.” 

“Mr. Betts,” said Major Carey, nervously, 
“does this boy know what he is talking about?” 

“Looks like it?” laughed the young lawyer, 
taking a blue envelope from his pocket in which 
the Virginian could not fail to note an ample 
supply of currency. “We were afraid the Bar- 
ber Bank might not like the looks of our check.” 

Major Carey, red in the face and thick of 
speech, sprang to his feet. 


212 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

*^This is a bluff/’ he exclaimed. ^‘What are 
you trying to do?” 

^‘Not trying,” said Morey in turn, and him- 
self white about the mouth. ^^I’m just taking 
up my mother’s obligations. Then her farm will 
be clear and free from debt.” 

The planter sank back in his chair. 

‘‘You should have talked to me about this, 
Morey. I’d have bought that land from you.” 

“You can get it yet,” smiled Morey. “It’ll 
be on the market in a few days. The price is 
fifty dollars an acre, cash.” 

Major Carey was upset. He retired to the 
bank below and returned in a few moments with 
Mr. Bradner, his son-in-law. But the latter was 
equally disturbed. There was nothing to do 
but produce the notes and prepare a statement. 
The moment this was ready Morey interrupted 
the proceedings again. 

“Are you ready to make your settlement for 
the rent of the corn land. Major Carey?” 

This was a bombshell. There were futile 
and foolish arguments about “favor to Mrs. 
Marshall to prevent the place going to weeds,” 
“high taxes,” “fence repairs,” and “poor 
crops.” 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 213 

‘‘Take ^em all out/’ retorted Morey, sharply. 
“I only want what is ours.” 

Major Carey had to beg for time until morn- 
ing to consult his receipts and farm books. An- 
other meeting was arranged for the next day at 
ten o’clock. 

At that time, taking his own unquestioned 
figures and allowing him half the crops for two 
years— deducting forty acres of waste land and 
an array of expenses that made Mr. Betts smile. 
Major Carey was compelled to concede that 
there was a surplus of $4,160 to be divided. 

Morey’s pencil was out. 

“We owe you,” he said sharply, “$14,092.50. 
You owe us $2,080. The difference is $12,012.50. 
Here’s your money.” 

The disconcerted planter sat for a spell as if 
in a trance. 

“How about this year’s com crop?” he mur- 
mured at last. 

“I am now interested in this property Major 
Carey,” explained the agent. “Since you have 
put in a crop without even the formality of 
renting the ground you will certainly lose it.” 

By night the transaction was closed and Mr. 
Betts left on the evening train. He had turned 
over $2,080, the corn land rental to Mrs. Mar- 


214 The Aeroplane Boys Series 

shall and Morey had taken from it a hundred 
dollars to be paid to Mr. Tuttle in Washington. 

The next day Morey entered the Barber Bank 
and deposited his mother’s rental money to her 
account. Captain Barber treated him with a 
cold dignity. Almost out of the door the boy 
turned : 

^‘By the way, Captain Barber. Our land is 
on the market. If you know any one who wants 
it they can have it at a bargain, $50 an acre.” 

With his mother’s home and one hundred and 
sixty acres clear of debt, $2,000 in the bank and 
the possibility of perhaps $3,000 more from the 
sale of the rest of the farm, Morey at once pre- 
pared to return to the Signal Corps. It was al- 
most against his mother’s command, but she 
finally reluctantly consented. The day before 
his leave expired he drove their new horse and 
buggy to Lee’s Court House to secure a man to 
help Marsh Green in needed work on the place. 
Amos was with him. 

‘‘Marse Morey,” exclaimed the black boy, 
*‘dey done say dat yo’ all got plenty money 
now.” 

Morey, his mind on something else, answered : 

‘‘I’ve got my pay as a soldier.” 

Amos sighed. 


In the Clouds for Uncle Sam 215 

dat nuff to pay me mah money what 
yo’ all loan’ from me?” 

Morey laughed and then he grew sober. He 
had wholly forgotten the one person who had 
helped him when he most needed assistance. 

‘‘What is a banjo worth, Amos?” he asked. 

“Ah kin git one fo’ foah dollahs an’ two bits.” 

“Here,” exclaimed the white boy, taking a 
treasured twenty dollar bill from his pocket. 
“This is for what I borrowed and a banjo and 
all the cinnamon drops you can eat.” 

As Morey entered the bank a little later on 
some business for his mother, he was overtaken 
by the station agent and telegraph operator, 
who was in a state of high excitement and out of 
breath. The man had a carefully sealed tele- 
gram in his hand, but from his face it could be 
seen that he knew every word of its contents. 
Major Carey had just come downstairs from 
his office. He had been making desperate ef- 
forts when he met Morey, to reinstate himself 
in the lad’s good graces. 

“Official orders, I reckon?” exclaimed the 
banker. 

Morey read the following: 

“Sergeant Mortimer Marshall: 

Department reports favorably. Offers $25,- 


216 


The Aeroplane Boys Series 


' Y" 


000 outright for secret. Acceptance must be by 
widow. Congratulations. Report at Fort Meyer 
August sixth. Detailed on squad leaving for 
France August eighth to witness French war 
ofl&ce aeroplane trials. 


Squiers, 

Major TJ. S. Signal Corps. 


Morey, excited inwardly, but apparently calm, 
handed the message to Major Carey. 

‘‘Are you going to get all that money from 
the government r’ the latter asked. 

‘ ‘ My mother is, ’ ’ smiled Morey proudly. ‘ ‘ It 
isn’t mine and I don’t want it. I’m satisfied to 
be just Sergeant Morey Marshall of the Signal 
Corps.” 


[the end.] 


The book you have just read is the first of The 
Aeroplane Boys Series. The second volume is 
“The Stolen Aeroplane, or, How Bud Wilson 
Made Good.” New titles will be added to this 
series from time to time and can be bought wher- 
ever books are sold. 


The Airship Boys Series, by H. L. Sayler. 
Thousands of young Americans are now reading 
these splendid books. See advertisement on page 
two. 




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